


Smokey Taboo

by MindTrove



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-17 10:24:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 22,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5865799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MindTrove/pseuds/MindTrove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little glimpses into Moro Lavellan's journey as inqusitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Elvhen culture or lack there of

Haven was cold.

Moro couldn’t say she was a big fan of the place. Surrounded by humans, chantry folk and god knows what else would be showing up on their doorstep. The entire day had been a whirlwind. Appointed the herald of Andraste (Mythal’s mercy….), a magical mark on her hand and rifts all over Thedas.

The closest they had to an expert on the mark was the elven apostate Solas. A pain in the ass quite frankly. Clan Lavellan made it clear to her at young age that any mage worth his salt should be heeded and shown a good amount of respect. So of course she would seek his council and his opinions. Although now she wished she hadn’t.

“I would like to hear your opinion on elvhen culture”  
“I thought you would be more interested in giving your opinion on elvhen culture” his snark wasn’t lost on her.  
“What’s your problem?”  
“You are Dalish are you not?”  
“I am. This bothers you? We are the best hope for preserving the culture of our people”  
“Our people…You use the phrase so casually. It should mean more….But the Dalish have forgotten that. Among other things….”  
“And I’m sure you know just about everything right?”  
“While they pass stories, I have walked the fade, I have seen things they have not”  
“Well! Please enlighten me on what we’ve forgotten.” Moro turned her gaze towards the breach, hip cocked to the side. Defensive.  
“As if those slums and Alienages are any better…” 

If there was one thing they both agreed on, it was that the conversation would get them nowhere and they left it at that. She had hope some comradery could be found with a fellow elf but it seemed she was wrong.

As if losing all her fellow hunters at the conclave and the breach wasn’t bad enough.


	2. Graceful?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get flirty but Solas still has to add an insult.  
> The man can't help himself.

Moro couldn’t tell you when things shifted between her and Solas. Such a rocky start, barbed comments on missions and conversations bordering on argument back in Haven made everyone believe theirs was a relationship constantly on edge. The boiling water just always on the tip of something catastrophic.

But something changed along the way. Perhaps it was her distaste for Mihris’ ‘flatear’ comments. She could tell Solas found her lack of patience for that side of Dalish arrogance strange although he never pried for information about it. 

Maybe things changed that day she had to tend to his wounds with no other available healers. She was not gentle by any means, but her commitment to protecting Solas, Cassandra and Varric was something to be admired even when she openly declared her distrust for them. Keepers aren’t the only protectors of a clan, what good is a hunter who cannot protect as well as provide she had said. The longer they worked together the more their insults and jibes became less heated and seemed more out of habit. More playful, just to see who would twitch first.

But Moro would not have expected things to take to this direction.

“Are you suggesting I’m graceful Solas?”  
“No, I am declaring it. It was not a subject for debate”  
“Hmm.”  
“Such a shame all that grace is gone, once you open your mouth however…”  
“You are infuriating, you know that?”


	3. Fade Fuck up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moro ya done goofed.  
> But at least you and Solas are friends now.

I’ve fucked up.

Honestly I shouldn’t have to take all the blame. He can’t flirt and make give that stupid, handsome fucking grin all the time.   
Stupid. You’re not some frustrated little girl. Where’s your self-control? Why would you kiss him?

~  
“Felt the whole world change?”  
“A figure of speech”  
“That’s not the part I’m interested in”  
“You change…Everything”  
“Uh-huh”  
~

He was right there. And I’m no mage but even I remember Haven being destroyed. This was a dream. And I had no intention of doing what I did if it was the waking world.

~  
Once their lips parted Moro slowly opened her eyes, and they got wider. Realisation creeping in at what she just did.

“Oh no…nononoonnonononono” Before she run away Solas grabbed Moro and pulled her close. Finishing what she started.  
~

Sure knows how to kiss a women. Bastard. I need to fix this.

~  
Moro made straight for the rotunda.

“Sleep well?”  
“Can’t say I’ve done that before”  
“Forgive me, the kiss was impulsive and I should not have encouraged it.”  
“It was foolish…”  
“I do not believe it wise to pursue anything of the sort…It could lead to trouble”  
“You’re right! A moment of weakness. Perhaps we should forget it happened…”

A moment was shared between them at that moment. A smile. A mutual sadness. A longing held at bay.

“But if you like, I would still enjoy talking”   
“Of course, our new found co-operation and friendship is a blessing and a miracle.” Solas gave a hearty laugh at that and gestured for Moro to join him at his desk.

“Then let’s not waste it.”  
~


	4. Apease your Vanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has their indulgence

If Moro was a mage, Pride demons would be lining up to come after her.

Dorian meant it as a playful jab but Solas had to agree. If there was any sin their Inquisitor had to be guilty of it was Pride.

Pride in her appearance for one. Whether they were in the cold, unforgiving marshes of the Fallow Mire, the unforgiving heat of the Western Approach or even a busy day at Skyhold.

Moro Lavellan always made time for her hair.

For practicality she always kept it wrapped up in a head wrap. It was a vibrant thing. Beautiful intricate designs, Rivaini in origin and the only surviving possession from her late mother so she said. Underneath it wasn’t hair but rather a mane is you asked Solas. Long deep waves of brown that went down to her waste. Soft, smooth, not a split end in sight, all pushed back. “I don’t like having my hair in my face” was her response when Dorian insisted she try another style. She had no remorse for slapping Cole’s hands away when he got too curious, trying to feel it for himself.

Hair like that took a lot of maintenance, even Solas could tell, and Moro had no problem with the burden. Sometimes he thinks she revels in the particulars of her routine. 

It was a cold day in the Hinterlands when he noticed Moro pulling her bag she often kept at camp, taking out an assortment of jars.

“Really?”

Moro emptied one of the contents of the jars, a red powder and began to mix it with several oils. “It’s Saturday”

“We could be attacked at any given time, many rifts have appeared in the area” Moro kept her eyes on the task at hand. The mixture now a dark brown oily paste. The source of the constant orange-dyed pigment to the palm of her hands.

“I have a routine Solas, you know that” she started applying the paste to her hair from crown to the tips of her ends. Not a single patch of hair would be unattended to.  
“It’s not as if the smell bothers you does it?” Solas let out huff and gave up. He may have found it trying at times, but there was always a calm serenity to her small little ritual to appease her vanity. He always found himself staring. Whether he realised it or not.

whether she noticed or not, she never made comment on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My lavellan would totally use henna for her hair. That stuff is so good for you.


	5. You're like an anchor on my heart

“Inquisitor….Do you have a moment?” before she could answer Solas was already leading Moro out of the rotunda and to her quarters, away from prying eyes. He was clearly earnest in his need to speak with her. After the whole business with his friend and their death. Moro would accommodate. 

Once they reached her room, she followed him out onto the balcony where he began to question her. What was she like before the anchor? Had it changed her?   
Moro rested against the balcony, thinking back on everything in her life in mere moments. Moro was only 34 but a lot had happened to her, she’d lost much. But the anchor? No, many things in her life changed her but this.

“Hmm, no I am myself. Why do you ask?”  
“You have not been what I expected Inquisitor”  
“Oh? Have I disappointed you?”   
“You have shown subtly in your actions, If the Dalish could raise someone like you, have I misjudged them?” Moro looked out onto the mountains drawing out a sigh in frystration.  
“You said it yourself did you not? That not all Clans were the same. The Lavellan Clan is full of good people. I am proud to be a part of them. I have made many mistakes in my life, I would not be alive today without their guidance and compassion” Moro could tell Solas was holding back on something.

“This subject hardly requires any privacy, what does this all mean Solas?” It took him awhile before Solas looked Moro in the eye. There was a tension in the air between them, Moro was almost unaware of the breath she holding in.

“I have been unable to forget that kiss” 

It seemed almost as if time had frozen for Moro. She would be lying if she denied the same thing, but she had dared not make any mention of it. It would be foolish for her to get involved. She should tell him no. She had given up on such dalliances a long time ago. 

“Well…And here I thought it was just me” 

Foolish. Selfish. 

Did it take a mutual attraction for her to realise how lonely she was? Perhaps that was it. Solas had said he had travelled alone for some time and perhaps this was all it was. Just two lonely people looking for a bit of comfort in the familiar.

Despite him instigating it Solas began to turn away, cold feet perhaps. By instinct Moro pulled him back. Did either of them know what they were doing anymore?

“It would be kinder in the long run…”   
“It probably would”

She did not catch the words under his breath before she felt arms around her. Almost like he was everywhere. How long had it been? Since she was held like this? All apprehension out the window, she gave in. What’s another mistake among so many she has made?

“Ar Lath Ma Vhenan”

Something broke inside Moro in that moment. 

She was glad Solas had walked away. Those four words feeling like an anchor on her heart.


	6. It couldn't hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moro opens up a little more and shows Solas why she'll defend the Dalish every time

“So you and the Inquisitor? Interesting”

Moro had Solas, Sera and Blackwall accompany her to the Hissing Wastes. The terrain would truly test her resolve, while Solas and Sera didn’t get along, Moro got on with them individually just fine. Along with Blackwall her accompaniment was decided on the merit that they could all keep her spirits up and her mind off the never-ending sand dunes. For they had set up camp and were in the middle of a light supper.

She knew someone would comment on the unlikely relationship that had developed between herself and Solas. Considering it was Sera, it would be either be incredibly funny, or borderline offensive.

“Your interest is not my concern”  
“That’s alright because I meant boring” Moro drifted in and out of their conversation, but no one could ignore Sera’s next comment.  
“Oh come on drop em and rebuild the empire!” The laugh that erupted out of Moro, startled everyone. Out of habit Moro grabbed Sera into a headlock placing a hard kiss on the top of her head.

“You’re ridiculous sometimes you know that sweet?” Sera giggled trying but failing to escape from her captor’s clutches.  
“It’s not me! It’s you! And him!” Solas retreated to his and Moro’s tent, clearly put off by Sera’s behaviour and Moro’s nonchalant attitude to the subject.  
“Only one of us is looking sad and foolish” Blackwall was silent but no amount of facial hair could hide the grin. Smart on his part that he stayed out of it.  
“Now look what you’ve done girl” Sera’s cheeky grin didn’t leave her face while Moro decided to check on Solas. Inside the tent, Solas was preparing himself for bed, he turned his head to see who had entered.

“You should not encourage her behaviour Moro” Moro had been ready for bed long before and had taken her place on their shared bedroll.  
“You get upset too easily love”  
“She is apart from herself”  
“She is what she is to survive” Moro patted her chest as an encouragement for Solas to stop being a sourpuss and take his usual place next to her. Moro liked sleeping on her back, which left Solas the role of draping himself across her. Not that he had any complaints, being the cuddly one of the two.   
“Alienage’s are difficult places to live Solas. Even more so for an orphan.”  
“And you would know?” Moro looked towards her head wrap that was placed in the far corner of her tent. Solas noticed and saw she was contemplating something, he raised his head up, urging her with his eyes to speak up. 

“Not all Dalish are born to a Clan” she had piqued his curiosity.  
“There’s much about you I still have yet to know I see” Moro sat up, she supposed there was no harm in telling him.   
“I spent the first 12 years of my life in an alienage, along with my parents and my brother” Solas sat up fully, legs crossed and giving Moro his full attention.  
“It was as shit as you can expect, but I was still too young to realise how shit it was. I had my brother and he was good to me. My best friend…” Moro stopped briefly at the mention of her brother, Solas took hold of her hand in comfort.

“There was this abandoned building in the alienage. It was a wreck and of course we decided to go and play in it. My brother’s magic manifested that day.”  
“Your brother was a mage?”  
“…He set the air on fire in front of me by accident. He never burnt me but it took me by surprise, I remember a blaze of fire and then I was falling…then there was pain and blood.” Without thinking her fingers grazed the long deep scar that ran across her cheek to the lobe of her ear.  
“That’s how you got your scar”  
“We tried to keep his magic a secret between us. I didn’t want the Templars to take him away from me…All a waste, they came anyway. Someone must have seen what happened.” The loss of her brother hurt Moro and her family deeply. Her mother’s grief taking her away a year after that. And her father made the decision that day “Anything’s better than this place” and took her and what little they had left to find the Dalish.

“I still remember seeing my father on his knees in front of Keeper Deshanna. Crying and kissing her knuckles. My father was always a proud man. It was hard watching him do that. Begging like a dog…”   
They both stayed like that for a while, sitting in silence as she relived harsh events in her mind. Her defensive nature regarding the Dalish made more sense to him now. 

While he still had his reservations. He could at least say there was one decent Clan out there in Thedas.


	7. What he wants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Words have weight

Moro was someone who took her time with many things.

She ate with incredible slowness, not necessarily to enjoy the food, unless it was olives. Everyone agreed she should never eat them in front of company ever again after the borderline moaning she produced from the sheer enjoyment. She was careful and meticulous in her grooming and was slow and diligent with every letter she wrote and read.

Sex was the complete opposite.

Times in the rotunda together, chaste moments on missions gave off an incredibly alluring aura that just tickled Solas in all the right ways. While he was insistent on being patient in that department, he almost felt like a little over excited boy at the prospect of them finally taking things to that step. 

His fantasies did not live up to the reality.

Moro was in charge. Not that he found that to be a problem. He’d found it quite exciting when she took the reins and climbed on top of him with that determined glint in her eye. It seemed however that they wanted different things in the moment. Solas wanted to explore, to learn about his love in all new ways and make her come undone.

Moro wanted to….well….fuck.

He would have thought it inexperience, or getting reacquainted with an old dance but his heart defiantly knew what she was doing. She did it very well. Once they were done, out of breath and enjoying the afterglow he looked up to find her already getting dressed.

“Are you alright?” Moro was tying up her hair, a forced casual attitude to her body language.  
“I’m great! You are too I hope?”  
“I am…but where are you going?” 

Pin-drop silence.

“What do you mean where am I going?” Solas sat up, confused as Moro’s behaviour.  
“It’s the middle of the night and while it has been a long time, I’m pretty sure lovers don’t go their separate ways so soon after…well…” Moro began to fidget with the waistband of her trousers. She was nervous. No. Cautious, why was she cautious?

“What do you want from me Solas?”  
“Moro-“  
“Isn’t this what you wanted? Isn’t this what we want?”  
“Vhenan...”  
“Don’t call me that!” Solas eyes widened at her outburst, both stayed in that uncomfortable silence, waiting for the other to give in. He grabbed her wrist to pull her to sit beside him.  
“I know what that word means Solas…You can’t just throw a word like around”  
“I call you Vhenan because that is what you are.” She couldn’t look at him but she didn't pull away when he rubbed gentle circles to the palm of her hand, undoing the tye on her hair.

“You shouldn’t…” She was afraid, he didn’t know why.

But he knew.

It was a better place than any to start


	8. Black and White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra's thoughts on The Inquisitor

The inquisitor could be quite puzzling to Cassandra at times.

They started off the relationship as strained as you could get. No one would appreciate having a sword in their face, then being dragged around in chains. Once it became clear to Moro that the seeker and her would have to fight alongside each other she set all that aside and became co-operative. 

A bit too co-operative, especially for a Dalish elf. When she tried to question her on this, all Moro did was cock an eyebrow, side-eyeing the breach in the sky. 

Maybe some things were just that simple.

She learnt that Inquisitor was a hunter, in particular a protector guarding the borders of wherever the Clan would decide to make camp.  
“Just don’t expect me to catch dinner, I’m shit with a bow.”

She learnt that Moro had a soft spot for children, though she hid it well until a particular trapes through the hinterlands, when a child was found separated from his family.   
He screamed, and screeched neither Cassandra, Vivienne or Sera would do anything to make him stop, since none of them were particularly any good with children. When the seeker turned to their Inquisitor she was sure she’d be scowling and hold nothing but contempt for the child. All three of her companions were agape to see their usually ruthless and hardened inquisitor cooing at the child, picking him up and rocking him up and down to calm him.

Which worked. Maker knows how.

“We’ll have to deal with that rift later. Let’s get him back to the crossroads”

Lastly on their trip she learnt that Inquisitor Lavellan had a very black and white view on the battlefield. 

A group was found near a small cave over-looking Redcliffe Farm. Dennett’s wife was sure they were bandits and insisted they be dealt with.  
This was an easy feat for the 4 women. Moro had a blade to their leaders throat when Cassandra noticed they were simply more refugees fleeing from the mages and Templars. 

“You fought well, go to the crossroads and join up. We could use more swords” Moro was sheathing her blades checking on Vivienne and Sera.

“You literally had a blade at my throat not five minutes ago!!! Now you want me to join your Inquisition?!”  
“Five minutes ago you were the enemy and now you’re not. You live. And get to make yourself useful”

Cassandra learnt the Inquisitor was anything but black and white.

And would always take her by surprise.


	9. Where is he?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah Cole...

“You miss him.”

“Who do I miss Cole? I know quite a few people”

“Your brother”

“……”

“You wonder sometimes if it’s your fault. If you could have done something. Turn back time. We should never have gone up there. I never got to say goodbye!”

“That’s enough Cole.”

“He didn’t blame you. He loved you. He was sorry for hurting you.”

“…..I never blamed him for anything”

“It eats away inside you Moro. Like leaches…So much guilt. For him. For her. For Ar-“

“No more Cole!”

“He would be proud of you, of how you survived. No matter what.”

“……Where is he now Cole…My brother….Do you know?”

“He’s dead. He never made it through the harrowing”

“………”

“I’m sorry….”


	10. Flat Ear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get to find out why Moro hates the term Flat-Ear

“Have you been settling well?” 

Two weeks had passed since Clan Lavellan took in Moro and her father. Going for over a month starving and at the mercy of the forest took a considerable toll on them both. It would take a while before they’d get some fat back on their bones.

“Good, better than good. I had my doubts but.... the fresh air, good food, and this...”   
“Freedom?”  
“Yes!” Hahren Ithelan chuckled and brought a pipe to his lips, taking a long slow pull, blowing the smoke up into the air.  
“And your daughter? Moro was it?” Ithelan noticed the man cast his eyes away.  
“You have all been accommodating, more than I expected. Despite us being outsiders-“  
“You are one of the people Lethallan. Regardless of Origin.”  
“Children learn that lesson a lot slower” Ithelan gave an understanding nod.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Moro sat on a log across the clearing where the Dalish children were playing, chasing each other and acting out stories. She was too busy looking down at her toes to notice one of the girls come and stand in front of her, stick in hand and eyes full of questions.

“Why are you sitting by yourself?”

Moro looked down to each side then shrugs her shoulders. The other girl cocked her head to the side, blowing loose blonde curls out of her face. Without asking she grabbed Moro’s hand and dragged her to the field to play with her and all the other children.

All the laughter and playing came to a halt when they arrived. One of the boys among the group stepped forward, puffing out his chest in an attempt to intimidate.

“Why is she here Lailani?”  
“I want her to play with us-” before she could finish the little trouble maker pushed Lailani out of the way.  
“You’re not dalish!” Moro shifted her weight from one foot onto the other, anxiety building up. So many eyes on her. Like a cornered mouse.

“She’s from the city! Came here with her father”  
“So she’s a flat ear?”  
“Leave the flat ear Faron!” Faron ignored the protest of his friends, chin held high in arrogance.  
“You’re not even a real elf flat ear, go back to the city” Moro glared daggers at Faron, fists curling at her sides.  
“Stop calling me that.”  
“Or what?”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m sure she’ll be getting along with the children just fine-“Hahren Ithalen and Moro’s father were interrupted by a crying Faron, nose bloody and hysterical children running behind him.

“By the Dread Wolf boy! What happened?!” Faron clung to Ithalen’s tunic pointing towards a very angry and very guilty looking Moro. Ithalen’s lips curled in irritation, giving Moro’s father a pointed loom to take Moro to the Keeper immediately. The story teller stayed behind to look after Faron and calm the chaos.

Moro was dragged to Keeper Deshanna’s aravel, her father bending on one knee, gripping hard onto her shoulders.  
“What is wrong with you Moro?! Is this how you behave?! You barely speak these past weeks and now you’re picking fights with children?! Do you want us sent away?” Moro would not look at her father, lip quivering and eyes blurry with tears.  
“What is wrong?!”  
“I HATE IT HERE!!!” She burst into tears, face buried in her hands to quiet her sobs.  
“I wanna go home! I want Mamae and Phiraan back!”  
“This is our home now Moro! There….There not coming back…We can’t go back…”

Keeper Deshanna appeared from her aravel, striding over to the two of them.  
“I will take it from here Marin, go apologise to the boy’s father” Deshanna sat on the steps of the adjacent aravel and pulled Moro into her lap.

“He called me a flat ear…”  
“Mhmm, and so you gave him a bloody nose”  
“He wouldn't leave me alone…I just wanted to be left alone.....They hate me...”  
“They don’t hate you Da’len, they tease because you are different.”

“……..” 

“It will not happen again. And YOU won’t be bashing anyone’s nose again. Am I understood child?”  
“….Yes”  
“Yes what?”  
“Yes Keeper…” Deshanna gave a comforting pat to Moro’s belly.  
“They will respect you and call you kin, but you must give it time”

“……..Fine.”


	11. When I grow up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More kid Moro stuff

“Does it hurt?” 

Marin found that he had a natural talent for herbalism. He suspected after losing his son to Templars and the death of his wife his mind would easily turn to violence. He had been so angry, and tired. The calm and simple task that was involved in his new tasks for the clan gave him clarity and allowed him to look back on his life in a better way.   
It didn’t take long before it was clear he would dedicate himself to Sylaise and receive her Vallaslin. A simple intricate pattern across his left eye. Not as extensive of some of the others, but painful to bear nonetheless. 

“Only a little, it’s still quite fresh” Moro clearly liked it. The face tattoos were intricate and beautiful and he had to keep swatting her hand away when she got too close.  
“Who is it for?”  
“Sylaise”  
“Sy…laise? Sylaise!” Marin smiled, ruffling Moro’s hair. A small commotion interrupted them. 

Moro ran off to seek out the source, reaching the heart of the encampment she stopped in her tracks. 

A group of Elves strode proudly into the camp, adorned in emerald armour reflecting in the sun giving them an almost heavenly glow, their faces covered in the most vibrant red blood writing. Andruil. They carried several dead animals that would feed the entire clan. Bows and Daggers close to their sides, an extension of their being that none of them would be without. 

Moro’s eyes were wide as saucers. Stricken in awe at these men in women who stridden into the camp with such confidence and bravado.

“There you are!”  
“Father…Who are they?”  
“Hmm…? Those are our hunters Moro. They bring food and protect the clan. Why?”

“I wanna be a hunter.”


	12. Romance?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moro gets out of her comfort zone

Moro genuinely wanted her relationship with Solas to work, which meant she’d need to put some effort into it. That meant…

Romance.

A completely foreign concept to her. She was used to quick, hard and fast. Then you’re dressed and out of there. Keep it clean and casual, blow off steam. That’s what Moro was used to.

But Solas was a romantic, he tried constantly to take his time with her. Make it sensual, create a build-up. Ten minutes in and Moro would be on top and getting straight to the finally. This behaviour in the boudoir was taking its toll on Solas. He didn’t say anything but she could tell and Moro (Love?) liked Solas, a lot. Whatever ‘this’ was that they had, she didn’t want it to end. 

“Solas”

“My heart” Solas marked the page he was reading to give Moro his full attention. Moro circled his desk till she was right behind his chair, hands gently traveling his shoulders to his chest and back.  
“Will you be here all day?” Solas leaned back in his chair, lifting his head to meet her gaze.  
“I intended to, till late. Did you have other plans?”  
“No. Just making sure.”  
“Alright….” Moro distracted his minor suspicions with a kiss and left him to his work. As soon as she was sure he could not see her, she took a more frantic pace all the way to the courtyard. Heading straight for the seeker.

Cassandra was sitting in the shade reading the latest of her guilty pleasure, taken by surprise when Moro came crashing in front of her in slight hysterics.

“Inquisitor!”  
“I need your help!”  
“My help?” Moro scanned the courtyard then dragged the seeker onto the battlements.  
“You like all that romantic nonsense right?” Cassandra dashed her book behind her back in embarrassment.  
“No no Seek- Cassandra its fine, I don’t care! I need your help”  
“Where are you going with this Inquisitor?” Moro pinched the bridge of her nose, of all things to need assistance with…  
“You know…about me and Solas…?” It turned out that Cassandra in fact did NOT know about them.  
“You? And…..Well…”  
“I know.”

“I thought you couldn’t stand him? Granted you two have been much better as of late”  
“Yes yes yes. He’s a frustrating bastard, but now he’s MY frustrating bastard”   
“What does this have to do with my books?”   
“The problem is….I’m not very….Romantic…” Cassandra gave an amused chuckle at that.  
“That comes as no surprise Your Worship”  
“Will you help me or not?”  
“So you wish to what? Court Solas?”  
“Well it’s a bit late for that.” Cassandra blushed at the admittance of how far along Moro and Solas had gone.  
“Very well Inquisitor, let’s see what we can do”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The main hall was usually quiet at this late hour, most of its denizens retired for the night. Solas would be as well if he had not received a note. A scented note. With an invitation and a kiss at the end of it. If he did not recognise Moro’s handwriting he would have been sure it was some practical joke. Curiosity got the better of him and was making his way to her rooms.

He opened the door and was greeted by the long staircase that led to her bedroom covered in…Candles?  
“Well….That’s not dangerous at all.” With each step he used his magic to extinguish every candle he passed. Once he reached the top he couldn’t help but eavesdrop at the quiet noises he could hear inside. A scuffle hear, a tumble there and a curse word every here and there.

“What on earth is she doing?” Solas knocked three times.  
“Shit! Come in!”   
The sight that greeted Solas was one he never thought he’d ever see.  
Candles littered the entire room, there wasn’t a surface in sight without illumination. Colourful pillows, furs and silks were scattered around the space by the fire. An assortment of cakes and other treats among them and there, front and centre, was Moro, wearing a long gown that left nothing to the imagination, her hair in an up-do she would normally wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a smile gracing her features.

She looked more like she was attempting to hold in wind.

“Well…?”  
“This is….different.” It never ceased to amaze him how Moro could go from zero to one hundred.  
“You hate it.”  
“I didn’t say that-“   
“I knew this was fucking stupid…” Moro crossed her legs as she plopped down into the cushions below her. Solas smiled and closed the door behind him, joining Moro by the fire.  
“What the hell was I thinking? This was ridiculous. That’s the last time I try-“

“Ooh, white. Lovely” Solas let Moro continue her solitary dialogue about her little ‘disaster’ as he poured himself some wine. She was still going on even as he continued to sip and savour the fine liquid, keeping an eye trained on his frustrated love.  
Eventually enough was enough and Solas shoved one of the chocolates available to stop her rant. Moro glared at him about to protest further until he shoved another in her mouth.  
“I hate you…”  
“Yes, that’s why you did all this. Now…” Solas put down his wine glass, undoing the pins and ribbons in Moro’s hair.

“What sparked all this?” Moro buried her face into the palm of her hand in embarrassment.  
“I just wanted to try be more romantic”  
“Ah…”  
“I know things haven’t been…too great? For you…I wanted to…ridiculous”   
“I suppose such a setting could be romantic…for some. The effort and intent isn’t lost on me however Vhenan. Come here”

It was hard sometimes. To break old habits, but she tried to hold herself and let Solas lead the kiss. To relinquish a bit of control. Is this what it was like? To let someone take care of you? To savour a union? Trailing kisses down her neck took Moro away from her thoughts, a shiver running down her spine.

“Uncomfortable?”  
“A little…”  
“Should I stop?”

“No, this might not be all that bad”


	13. Phone Home

It wasn’t uncommon for a messenger to interrupt many of the conversations Moro would be having on any given time within Skyhold. A simple envelope to offer and Moro would be excusing herself and heading straight to her quarters. This brought no end of grief to Josephine, who would have to apologise profusely to the many dignitaries and nobles who found such ‘rudeness’ unacceptable. Not that the Inquisitor cared.

Letters from home were a priority. Tucking herself into her cosy chair at her desk while she read her letters and made replies of her own. Her correspondences with her clan, some of the little few pleasures she had leading an army of human faithful.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Da'len, 

Andaran atish'an. It does my heart well to hear of the progress you have made with your Inquisition. Your father would have been proud. Word has travelled far, including that of an apostate by the name of Solas I believe? The nature of your relationship surprises me but I am glad to hear of it. It has been a long time, but I hope these many years of contemplation have taught you not to repeat your mistakes. Be honest with him, and yourself.  
Mythal guide you emm'asha, I pray you are brought back to us soon.

-Keeper Deshanna Istimaethoriel Lavellan


	14. Clan Lavellan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rememebr how you could accidently kill off Clan Lavellan?
> 
> Yeah...

Everyone was on edge after Adamant. 

Moro more so even months later. Her last letter from home was a cry for help. Every scrap of resource within Leliana’s arsenal was used and sent to help them and had still had no word week after agonising week.

And emergency war table conference was demanded in the early hours. By their spy master.

Moro arrived later than her three advisors, sleep in her eyes and dressed only in her gown, hair slightly dishevelled. All of them with grief stricken faces. Moro picked up the report laid before her.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Da'len,  
I know not whether this will reach you. The Duke of Wycome is dead, and the soldiers of Wycome blame us. All the elves in the city have been killed, blamed for some plague that only strikes down humans. Now they hunt us as well.  
Most of the clan is already dead.  
Live well, da'len. You carry Clan Lavellan with you. They are coming for us.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Most of the clan is already dead. Already dead. 

Clan Lavellan was gone.

All three advisors held a stony silence. Moro continued to stare at the report, the words blurring together. Something had snapped within her, without a word she was leaving the war room.

“Inquisitor?” Cullen’s words falling on deaf ears as Moro continued her way out and up to her quarters. All three advisors looked to each other unsure how to proceed. Leliana eyes furrowed, her arms falling from behind her back.

“Follow her” 

Josephine, Cullen and Leliana were only half-way up the staircase when a blood-curdling scream erupted from the Inquisitor’s room, reaching all the way down to them. This quickened their steps, rushing into the room.

Broken glass littered around the balcony, furniture in disarray. Moro was on her knees in the middle of the room, hands gripping her hair, rocking back and forth, racking with sobs and unintelligible chants and moans. Cullen tried to approach the inquisitor, unsure how to proceed without provoking anything worse.

“Inquisitor….You must calm down, please…”  
“Calm down? How can she be calm Commander?!”  
“That’s enough! Both of you, this is my responsibility.”

The three of them continued to bicker amongst themselves, their words a distant echo in Moro’s mind. The balcony doors were open wide, bringing in the cold mountain air that would chill her bones if she could feel them. The curtains billowing in the breeze. Moro lifted her eyes towards the balcony, the moon was high and large in the sky illuminating the outside world. Moro rose to her feet and stepped forward. Shards of glass pierced her feet, but she continued to put one foot in front of the other. Kept going, and going and going.

“INQUISITOR!!!”

Josephine’s shriek and the feeling of large arms surrounding her frame and hoisting her backwards took her out of her trance. Soon she was filled with anger, struggling in Cullen’s grip, screaming and cursing at the man demanding he release her. She managed to elbow the Commander hard enough for him to release her. Josephine quickly grabbed Moro’s face in her hands, her grip like a vice.

“Breath Inquisitor! Please!” Josephine’s dealing with Moro were large in number and was used to her sometimes scary, unfriendly demeanour but this was the first and last time she ever wanted to be face to face the Inquisitor, the look in her eyes like that of an animal that sent a wave of fear down her spine.

“Leave me.”  
“Inquisitor…”  
“Leave.Me.All of you.” Josephine and Cullen look to Leliana.  
“I will have someone close by” she whispered. “Let’s go”

The door to Moro’s quarters clicked closed. “Someone send for Solas.”

Once she was sure they had left, Moro felt into a heap of sobs. Tears falling fast and never ending and Curled into herself, everyone she knew and loved was dead. Phraan, her mother and father and so many others lost in all the years. How many must be taken from her?

“Emma’lath….” Moro darted up at his voice, fresh tears sliding down her cheeks, her voice breaking on his name.

“Solas…” 

Solas was quick to notice her bleeding feet and made a priority to start a healing spell, hushing his love as she cried quietly into his shoulder.

“Solas…”

“Ssh…”  
“They’re dead…I couldn’t save them…” Solas took hold of her hand and rubbed little circles into the palm of her hand, a habit born out of realising how much it comforted Moro.  
“You did everything you could have done”  
“I should have done more! My baby….”

“Baby? Moro what are you-”

“Mythal show me mercy….I left my daughter to die…”  
“A daughter…?”  
“I’m so sorry…I should have told you sooner. I should have done everything sooner! And now Ramia’s dead….All-mother forgive me…” Moro cried into Solas’ lap, throwing out prayer after prayer begging the gods for mercy and the deliverance of her daughter. 

So many thoughts whirled in Solas’ mind, the reminder of how god-fearing his love was and the news that she was a mother.

And her child was dead.


	15. Heartache City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moro get's things off her chest

Moro and Solas reclined side by side of the big four poster bed in her quarters. Moro stared up to the ceiling in thought while Solas’ eyes remained closed. They had stayed like that for what could have been hours, neither uttering a word. Keeping each other’s company in silence. The news of her clan’s death of the day before still a sore wound in Moro’s heart neither of them bring up the nights events.

“Solas”  
“Hmm?” Solas’ eyes remained closed but tilted his head slightly in her direction. When she did not continue he opened his eyes, turning his head fully towards her.

“I’m sorry, for never telling you about her.”  
“We all have our secrets Vhenan. You should she would be safer that way no? The daughter of the Inquisitor would be a dangerous title.”

“That doesn’t me I should have kept it from you!”  
“Why not?”  
“Because I trust you.” Solas’ eyes widened at her confession, which immediately followed by a deep sadness. One any other day Moro would have picked up on it, instead she looked away from him to contemplate on an inner conflict. She sat up and sat crossed legged on the bed, Solas mimicking her posture and awaited her next word.

“Ramia cried when I left…” Solas took hold of Moro’s hands. “She begged me not to go…She was only 10 and gods…She hadn’t seen me in two years. No one was there to look after…”

“Clans are big Moro, she would not have been alone I’m sure”  
“Lailani had 3 children with a fourth on the way….Oh gods Lailani…”   
“This wasn’t your fault Vhenan!” Moro took in a deep breath, struggling to regain her composure.  
“What about her father?”  
“Her father?”  
“Yes Moro, Ramia’s father. I assume you had help making her yes?” It was probably the first sign on mirth between them as Moro punched Solas in the arm while he chuckled softly at her expense. It was short-lived. Moro stared through Solas, guilt-ridden and absent-mindedly tracing the lines of her vallaslin.

“Arlen…”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was late into Harvestmere. The weather was getting colder and the hunters were needed now more than any other time of the year to provide for the clan, it wouldn’t be long before winter would come and hunting would prove challenging.

The air within the camp was always crisp and sharp this early in the morning. Many of the elves were still asleep and would not be rising anytime soon which was good. No one would be around to hear the quiet and muffled moans and sharp breaths just barely leaving one the aravels where the craftsmen situated themselves.  
Arlen was laying in his bed, body glistened with sweat energy sapped after one of his many trysts with Moro. When he opened his eyes he looked to find Moro already half-dressed and composed.

“Your mastered the art of dressing in incredibly quick time” Moro snorted at his comment and proceeded to put on her tunic.  
“Need to be out and back at mine before Master Isene wakes up. You remember what happened last time she caught us”  
“Don’t remind me! She was so angry!…Moro…Can we talk?”

“About what?”  
“Us.” Moro froze in place, and turned to look at Arlen with furrowed brows.

“What about us?” Arlen let out an exasperated breath and looked up at Moro. Feeling awkward and put on the spot she couldn’t look him in the eye, instead concentrating on the part on June’s writing that decorated his forehead. Anywhere but his eyes. Arlen always had that puppy look that made her feel shit when he was upset.

“How long are we going to keep doing this Moro? It’s been over a year now”   
“Elgar’nan Arlen! How many times are we going to go through this?”   
“I know you’re still young Moro but I’m getting on…”  
“You’re only 23…”  
“Exactly! The keeper’s been on my arse abouut cosying up to one of the girls!”  
“Then why don’t you?” Moro had her hands on her hips, she didn’t like where the conversation was going.  
“I don’t want any of them!” Arlen took hold of Moro hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I want you…” 

Moro snatched her hand away and turned away from him.

“Why are you making things complicated Arlen?”  
“Moro…”  
Moro sighed under breath and sat beside Arlen, a defeated look on his face. She place her hand awkwardly on his.

“You knew what this was when we started Arlen, I like you, but this was just for fun. I thought we were on the same page.”  
“And nothing’s changed for you? In nearly two years?”  
“It can’t change Arlen…” Arlen looked away again, Moro rose up and continued to search for her belongings.  
“Besides, Deshanna’s been setting her sights on Tuelan for me” Arlen sorted, getting dressed himself.  
“Tuelan’s a prick.”  
“Hahaha, most of the hunters are! You just have to know how to talk to them. Tuelan’s not that bad, once you get to know him”  
“I’ll pass…” 

Moro was about to leave when Arlen tugged on her arm.  
“Do you want him?”  
“Arlen...”  
“Do you?!”  
“That’s not the point! He’s a good hunter! That’s how things work in the clan Arlen.” Arlen’s grip on Moro’s arm tightened, his eyes shone with a sudden determination.  
“Only a hunter will do won’t it?”   
“Arlen please…”  
“Tell me you don’t want me. Tell me I’m not worthy and end this.”   
“Arlen stop it!”  
“Tell me you don’t want me!”   
“I….I…”

“Moro!” Arlen and Moro both shot up at the sound and saw Faron jogging towards them, his bow to his back and Moro’s daggers in his hand. He was slightly out of breath but still had a large grin on his face as he addressed them both.

“There you are! Been looking all over for you lethallin! Arlen! Morning! Uh…I’m not interrupting anything….? Am I?” Arlen gave a curt polite smile, releasing Moro.  
“No, Moro wanted to ask about some of the blades I’d be forging soon. Early as it is, I’m quite busy most of the day. As you know.”  
“Yeah, of course, of course. Well we’ve elders to impress, Moro you ready to go?” Moro was confused then slapped a hand to her forehead.  
“Shit! The hunt!” Faron gave a big hearty laugh, wrapping an arm around Moro’s shoulders and ushering her away.

“See, this is why you’re still bare-faced lethallin. Well, that and you’re a terrible hunter” Faron’s smart-ass comments would usually be met with a good punch to the gut. Moro’s attention was still on Arlen who slowly retreated back into his aravel.

Once they were a respectable distance from the craftsmen’s aravels Faron lead Moro in a completely different direction and pulling her to the side. 

“I don’t want to talk about it Faron.”   
“It’s not like I never warned you, it’s all fun and games until it becomes more. At least for one of you” Moro let out a breath, tapping her foot in agitation.

“You don’t get it Faron.”  
“I do, Lailani isn’t a hunter.”  
“You and Lailani have been joined at the hip since we were children. The keeper could never convince you to bond with a hunter”  
“And you think Deshanna won’t exchange the same courtesy to you? You love him right?” Moro looked off to the side.  
“Right….?  
“Faron it’s…It’s more complicated than that.”   
“You can’t lead him around like this-“

“I’m not! He’s knows what this is! I…I don’t know how I feel. How do you even know when you love someone? When you’re ready to bond.” Faron shook his head.  
“This is why Keeper Deshanna has delayed your blood writing…” Moro was already twenty years old and still barefaced. Despite her excellence as a hunter, the keeper saw fit to delay her partaking of the vallaslin, claiming her not ready no matter how much she insisted otherwise. She looked up at Faron’s face, already bearing the patterns of Andruil. How much longer would she have to wait to pledge herself to Andruil?

“That will change.” Faron patted her on the back and they continued their way through the camp.  
“I hope so Moro, you’re a good hunter, and I want you to join us proper”

The hunt had gone well, as it always did. Despite Faron and Moro’s rocky start as children. Mirrored aspirations to become hunters brought them closer together and Faron’s prejudice views of Moro’s city upbringing left. He was proud to call her his kin and would trust her with his life. When they both along with some of the other hunters and apprentices arrived back from the hunt, they were greeted by Keeper Deshanna who wished to speak with Moro and Faron.

“Faron, Moro, I trust you’re both ready for tomorrow?”  
“Yes Keeper”  
“Winter is almost here, I want as much as you and the other hunters can get before the first snows fall. Hand your weapons in to Master Isene and get an early night. I want you all at your best” Both hunters nodded to the keeper, halfway towards the destination and Faron came to a halt.  
“By the Dread Wolf! Moro can you take my bow for me? I remembered Lailani wanted to see me before I retired. She’ll kill me if I forget”  
“Yeah sure” Faron handed Moro give bow and made a quick sprint to the pen where the Halla were kept. Once she arrived at the craftsmen’s forge she saw Arlen at work, deep in concentration.

“Is Master Isene around?” Arlen wiped some sweat from his brow, a smile on his face. Almost as if this morning’s events never occurred.  
“She’s bust at the moment, you and Faron going on the hunt tomorrow?” Moro nodded and handed the daggers and bow. She stood awkwardly for a moment before excusing herself.  
“Moro”   
“Yes?” her reply was almost immediate, prepared for their conversation from this morning to continue.  
“The hunt will be dangerous tomorrow”  
“It’s nothing I can’t handle”  
Arlen’s eyes were downcast, but shown with renewed vigour immediately.  
“Can I kiss you?”   
Moro wasn’t sure he heard him right. “Wait what?” Arlen gave a lazy grin.  
“For good luck” Moro rolled her eyes but looked around anyway.  
“Just a quick one alright?” Arlen’s grin widened and gave an enthusiastic node. Moro leaned over the table, Arlen took hold over face and gave her the deepest kiss he could. Hard and long, like it would be the last and only time he would ever be able to do it. When they both broke for air, Moro’s eyes were wide and a deep blush painted her cheeks. Before she could ask anything Arlen was already gone to get started on their weapons.   
~

Moro was up bright and early and making her way to pick up her weapons. One of the craftsmen was there getting things ready.

“Hey, can you get me my daggers please? They’re double ended? Brown leather on the grip? I’m heading on the hunt”   
“They’re not here”  
“What are you talking about?”   
“Arlen said he’d send you and Faron’s weapons himself, he hasn’t been here since early.” Moro was full of dread, panic building by the second. “He never arranged that with me…” Moro made a run for the path the hunters usually took into the forest. Faron and a group of hunters were already there. Faron caught sight of her, pushing through the crowd.  
“Let me guess! Your weapons were going to be hand delivered as well right?!” Moro, eyes were laden with fear and worry.  
“Where is he?!”

“One of the hunters said they saw him sneaking away into the forest, with my bow and your daggers…Moro…” Moro was already grabbing the daggers off another hunter and charging into the forest in haste. This was her fault. She had to find him before he got himself killed.

“Damn you Arlen! You make weapons! You don’t use them!” She ran and searched for what seemed like hours, frantic and eyes darting from path to path. A wolf’s howl in the distance could be heard and she rushed towards the sound. When she arrived at a clearing there was a solitary wolf, circling a lone body on the ground, she made quick work of the beast. Laying on the ground before her was Arlen, it couldn’t be mistaken. Faron’s bow was a splintered mess and her daggers were still sheathed, he hadn’t stood a chance.  
Moro slowly walked towards him body, dropping to her knees before him. She had a hand on his chest while the other moved the curls of his hair from his face, eyes devoid of any life. Lips quivered, and tears fell. She had been too late.

“Why….” Her grip tightened, head falling onto his chest, desperate for a heartbeat, anything to show he might still be alive. Nothing.

“WHY?!” Moro shook his body, breaking into uncontrollable sobs that racked at her very core. Faron and the other had finally caught up to them. Despite her screaming protests 

Faron pulled Moro from Arlen’s body so the others could carry him back to camp.   
~

It had been a few weeks since the incident when Keeper Deshanna had to witness her hunters bring back the body of one of own. She had tried to avoid getting involved in the affair between Moro and Arlen despite her feelings on the matter. The lesson Moro learned that day was a hard and necessary one, but she had not expected a life to be taken in the process. 

It seemed a Keeper always had lessons of their own to learn.

Moro had grown twice fold in that time from then and now. She sat before her now, ready to receive her vallaslin.

“Be still child, Andruil’s writing can be tricky sometimes.”

“June.”  
“Hm?”  
"Mark me for June..."

“Do you not wish to follow the path of a hunter Da’len?”

“I've made my decision.” Deshanna stared into Moro’s eyes. There was no hesitation but her intentions were clear. She gave a long sigh and changed the ink. Deshanna lifted Moro’s chin, looking her straight in the eyes.

“Remember this pain child” Moro lifted her face higher and closed her eyes.

“Always.”

The pain was fire in her, she clenched her fists till they bled, tears held at bay and mouth clipped shut. The lines of June one by one decorated her face, every line as vivid as the ones he had. Every line bringing agony.

She would endure.

~

All were given a few days rest after receiving their vallaslin. Moro was attending to more domestic duties when she was greeted by the Keeper.

“Keeper.”

“June suits you girl.” Moro looked in the mirror and stared at her reflection, the marks of June across her cheeks, forehead and chin. To honour and remember Arlen, a man loved too late and a reminder of the cost of carelessness and pride.

She stood up to face Deshanna awaiting her word.

“Have you been to see Arlen’s father?” Moro frowned deeply fidgeting with the scarf in her hand.

“I….have been unable to face him, since what happened…” Deshanna had a knowing smile on her face.

“Come with me then” Placing a gentle hand to Moro’s belly “He should know his son is not truly gone from this world."  
~

“Keeper Deshanna always had a funny a way of finding out about things…No matter how hard you tried to hide it.” Moro finally lifted her face to meet Solas after telling her story, quickly hiding away unable to look at him. What would he think now that he knew?

“You think you haven’t changed?” Moro still refused to look at him, hiding her hands away when he tried to reach for them.

“Look at me emma’lath. Please” He cupped her face with one hand, tracing a thumb along her cheek where a stray tear had fallen. “This doesn’t change anything between us” Moro, held at his wrist, confused. Solas smiled solemnly, lost for a moment in his own thoughts. “Haven’t we all done things in our youth that we regret?” 

Before Moro could answer, the sound of her door burst open. Jumping out of bed on instinct she went to find it was Leliana at her door.

“Inquisitor, we must speak”

“What it is?”

“I have been looking over the report on your clan, your Keeper had said most of the clan was dead, But not all of them”  
“Get to the point Spy Master.” Leliana straightened her posture, a small smile on her face despite the subject at hand.   
“I had some of my agents stay behind when they were sent to Wycome, they found survivors. Some of them children.” Moro paced back and forth at the information.  
“You are sure…How many survivors?” 

“I would not bring you this information if I was not. My agents counted exactly five of them.”   
“….Very well. Send your best agents, but bring them to me. I wish to speak with them beforehand.” Leliana gave a nod and was on her way. Moro was already getting dressed, Solas rose from the bed moving over to her.

“What are you planning to do?”

“Just a few choice words, nothing to worry about” Solas stared at Moro sceptically but the agents, along with Leliana were already back and awaiting her command. Moro looked out towards the mountains, hands held loosely in front of her.

“Has your spymaster informed you of your mission?”  
“Yes your worship!”  
“There are exactly five survivors of Clan Lavellan. I want every single one of them brought back here. If any of them should die…Do not bother returning. You will have no place here.”

“…….”

“Am I understood?  
“Yes your worship!”

“Off with you.”


	16. Faith

“The threat was not necessary Vhenan”

“I don’t remember asking for opinions.” Moro walked over to her desk and tried to keep busy.

“Moro…”

“I won’t lose her again Solas. If I cannot leave Skyhold then I must take every measure to ensure they don’t fail. My threat will be the least of their worries if they fail.” Solas walked to her, placing a hand on her shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze when she placed her hand over his.

“They won’t fail."

“…..Arlen deserved better. Better than me. Ramia dying because of my carelessness spits on his memory. If she is even among the survivors…”

“You survived the destruction of the conclave, perhaps ridiculous feats of cheating death runs in the family.” 

“Hmhmm, you’ll forgive me if I’m not in the mood for jokes” Moro smiled despite herself which Solas mimicked giving a quick peck on her lips and left to give her time to herself. 

“I’d put a dressing gown on if I were you, your Ambassador has already sent for tailors. You’ll be in and out of outfits all day today” 

“Great…”


	17. Family Reunion

“Come now dear! It’s not that bad!”

“That’s the tenth dress today Vivienne! Mythal’s mercy!” Skyhold was all a bustle with Halamshiral soon on the way. While the Inquisition uniform was a swift and easy affair, The Inquisitor was expected to wear both the Uniform and (once events had concluded) impress the Orlesian court with an impressive gown.

A process that required she be shoved in several designs while Josephine, Vivienne and tailors watched and judged.

“You’re being a child Inquisitor. These are the finest tailors Val Royeux has to offer. A rare opportunity in itself.” Josephine chimed in, making notes as she had assistant running back and forth without rest. “She is right your worship, you must inspire! Not just intimidate” Moro rolled her eyes, arms aching as the dress maker held different fabrics against her.

“I do not see why I can’t just wear the uniform like everyone else”

“You will, but you will also wear a dress” Moro was too distracted to noticed Leliana enter the room, motioning with a nod at the tailor to leave.

“She better have a good reason for leaving and delaying this nonsense even longer…”

“Mamae…” 

Moro turned immediately, a hand clasping over her mouth. Her eyes watered and her breath became shaky, at a loss for words.

“…Oh…it’s really you isn’t it?” The little elvhen girl that had been standing next to the spy master ran swiftly into her mother’s arms. Moro was still in shock, Ramia clung to her mother tightly, small sniffles and short intakes of breath as she cried quietly into her Moro’s shoulder. Moro wrapped her arms tightly around her, afraid she would disappear if she left go. Everyone except Josephine left to give the Inquisitor a private moment. Moro held Ramia’s face between her hands, not an inch of her face going without kisses. Her baby was alive. Alive and in her arms.

“I thought I’d lost you.” Ramia rubbed at her eyes and hugged her mother once more.

“Don’t leave me again”  
“Never again” 

Josephine Made notes to her clipboard, her face beaming. “There is still plenty of time before we must attend the Winter Palace, I’ll have your schedule cleared out. You two have much to catch up on.”

“Thank you Ambassador”


	18. Houses

Moro had spent the better part of the afternoon with her daughter, arranging for a bath and food. So much food than her daughter could realistically eat but demanded anyway. 

She’d refused the servants who offered to bathe her daughter for her, requested the food and nothing else. It took time for Moro to become accustomed to being served and waited on but such a luxury came with her new role and was needed at this moment as she dried her daughter wet hair. 

She nodded her thanks, the servants giving a courteous bow before leaving to attend to other duties. It felt good to dote on Ramia again, the simple act of caring and grooming. To have some semblance of normality back in her life was a welcome distraction from Corypheus, the upcoming Ball and so much else. 

“They’re dead. None of them made it here except auntie Lailani... And some of the others.” Moro stopped, dropping the towel around Ramia’s shoulder and pulled her against her chest, chin resting on her head.

“We will honor them Da’vhenan, I promise.” Ramia remained silent.  
“The shemlen killed everyone. There’s so many of them here…”  
“I know, none of them will hurt you Ramia.” Ramia turned and faced her mother. Moro could see it in her daughter’s eyes, a distance that never used to be there. She had much to fix and there was no telling whether the scars inflicted would ever heal.

“I will not let them. No one will ever take you away from me again.” Ramia did not seem convinced, but they spoke no more on the subject. Moro rose from the bed, pulling Ramia with her.

“Come, you must be starving” 

Starving she was. She devoured everything in sight, only pausing to drink or stop to breathe. Moro only smiled, constantly replacing the empty plate in front of her and brushing away her hair and grooming her little girl.


	19. Strangers and Stranger endearments

Solas wasn’t expecting Moro for some time. The arrival of her daughter would take up not only her own time, but that of the Ambassador in order to accommodate the new arrival. 

She stood at the doorway of the Rotunda, and he half-expected a small thing, clutching to their mothers skirts, fearful of strangers.

This girl was not little, a child yes but older, older than Solas expected. And she did not shy away, standing close to her mother, the only sign of any apprehension, the vice grip she held on the Inquisitor’s hand.

“This is Ramia I presume Vhenan?” The endearment was not lost on the child as she looked up questioning at her mother. Thankfully it put her at ease, which put him at ease. 

This would not be as difficult as he was worried it would be. 

Solas pushed his chair out but remained seated, gestured for Ramia to approach him. Moro nudged her daughter in encouragement. She took her time, cautious despite his effort to look friendly. Solas wasn’t great with children, especially the type beyond infancy that could speak back and cause mischief.

“Come da’len, it’s alright” his theory that the use of sparse elvhen might ease the child proved right and she came to stand in front of him. Solas took both her hands in his own, taking the chance to get a look at his love’s daughter. 

Her hair was nothing like her mother’s, much wilder and darker, held at bay by a loose pony tail, eyes green and teeth graced with a pronounced gap that he found endearing. Is this what Arlen looked like? This girl must be the spitting image of her late father to show nothing of his heart in appearance.

“Your mother has told me much about you Ramia, it is good to finally meet you.” And there it was. Instead of shying away, she challenged his stare, refusing to let down her guard and trust this stranger. It seemed she was her mother’s daughter in more subtle ways, if one looked hard enough.

Moro leaned against the doorframe watching the exchange with a smile, she was nervous Solas could tell. It took him time but he’d learnt her tells. 

“Should you need help when you can’t find your mother, come to me. Ok?” 

Ramia looked to her mother then back. Moro gave an encouraging smile to her to ease her child’s suspicions. Ramia turned back to Solas, eyes trailing to the side. 

“Yes Hahren” Solas smiled and gave her hands a gentle squeeze before releasing them. Ramia ran back to her mother almost immediately. While Moro sent her daughter away to their rooms, he made himself busy with the scattered notes and papers on his desk. 

He looked up to find Moro had returned and was looking up at his latest fresco.

“Ramia will be staying in my room until Josephine has sorted quarters for her. Preferably once she has settled. If that’s even possible” Solas rested a hand on her lower back, rubbing small circles to ease her anxiety.

“She will Vhenan” Moro shrugged her head back and forth, eyes glossing. His hand became more solid on her back and he pulled her closer.  
“It’s not your fault, there’s nothing you could have done”  
“Everything she had, everything I had is gone.” Solas turned Moro to face him, when she refused to look at him, he placed his hands on her face, forcing her to face him.  
“Look at me Vhenan” Moro was a stubborn woman, but he could wait. She eventually turned her gaze to him, ready to listen.  
“Her mind will heal, you must give it time” Solas used his thumbs to rub the tears from her eyes. “Be patient”

“I love you Solas.”

“I…well…”

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you that. It is odd to say…But I do. I want you to know that.” Moro pulled Solas in for a chaste kiss, foreheads pressed together.

“Ara sal’shiral…Ma’sal’shiral.” Moro barely spoke elvhen in general, let alone to Solas. Her words resonating deep inside him.

“Fenor…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ara sal’shiral…Ma’sal’shiral.” : "Love of my life" or "You are my soul's journey"  
> Fenor: "Beloved"
> 
>  
> 
> Phrases were used from Project Elvhen by Fenxshiral: http://fenxshiral.tumblr.com/


	20. Please Hahren

The dress Moro had finally settled on was of a heavy fabric, the designs intricate, with the same colour scheme as the uniforms donned by the rest of the inquisition. She had been trailing her fingers over the fabric as she inspected herself in the mirror. Ramia sat on the bed watching, kicking one foot back and forth, rested her head on one hand in boredom.

“Where are you going?” 

“The lion’s den apparently…” Moro noticed her daughter’s confusion, opting to be more specific and she begun to remove the dress.

“The human rulers of Orlais are having a gathering and the Inquisition is to attend. Me specifically.”  
“Why?”  
“Orlais has been at war with itself, do you remember what I told you? Of Corypheus?” Ramia’s face dropped at the mention as she nodded her head. The idea of such a creature feared her, even more so when she knew it wanted to kill her mother. Moro, was in her nightgown and gestured for Ramia to join her at the dresser. Ramia sat down while her mother made a start on her hair.

“Can I come?”

“No.” 

Ramia frowned and interrupted her mother’s brushing to look up at her. “Why not? I don’t want to be left alone here…” 

“Enough Ramia, I will not put you in danger, The Winter Palace is a dangerous place.” Moro tied Ramia’s hair in a bun to keep in place, before she could rise in a strop and drag her feet back to the bed. Moro narrowed her eyes at Ramia’s behaviour. “You would be an easy target for assassination, and I will not risk that” 

“Alright. You win” Moro gave a warm smile pulling on her daughter’s cheek.

“I always win” Ramia giggled and hopped off the bed, putting on her own gown, Moro had made and was descending the stairs.  
“Ramia?”  
“I’ll be back!” She was gone before Moro could protest.

The hour was late and to Ramia luck not many humans were around. Only the dwarf she had heard her mother address as Varric, next to him sat Blackwall. Blackwall she more knowledgeable about, her mother and the bearded human were very close. He was still wary herself but would still address him as her mother instructed her to. Varric was the first to see her approach and set aside his ale, which resulted him Blackwall noticing her as well.

“It’s a bit late, Ramia. Why are you still up?” Ramia turned her attention to Blackwall hands clasped in front of her.  
“Is her in there uncle?” Blackwall was deeply touched when Moro had instructed Ramia to address him as uncle, Moro was always a hard lady to read but she had always made it clear that she respected his determination and hard work in battle, this instance was another of her actions he had felt unworthy of, but he would take in stride.

“Who’s he?”  
“That bald man who keeps calling my mother vhenan.” 

Varric choked slightly on his ale and broke into quiet laughter, not wanting to catch the attention of said ‘bald man’. Blackwall cleared his throat to avoid a chuckle himself, nodding his head and gesturing towards the rotunda. Ramia said goodbye to the two and only got as far as the opened door, holding onto the door handle.

Solas was deep in a tome, eyes deep in thought as it scanned the words on the page while simultaneously reaching for his tea. Ramia was silent as a cat as she slowly approached his desk. Solas had not noticed her approach, eyes still glued to his tome as he took a sip of his tea, face scrunching up at the taste.

“What’s wrong with your tea?”

“Fenehidis!” Solas jumped at the unexpected intruder, a hand on his chest. He quickly composed himself when he realised who it was.

“Ramia?”

“Why did you make that face?” Solas look at the subject in question.

“Its tea. I don’t particularly like it” Ramia narrowed her eyebrows, looking back at Solas.

“If you don’t like it don’t drink it.” 

Solas chuckled at Ramia’s blunt attitude, resting his forearms on the desk, entwining his fingers together, leaning forward on his desk.

“I doubt you came here for that Da’len, what can I help you with” Ramia blushed in embarrassment but recovered quickly. Her sheepish behaviour was still there however as she started fiddling with a book on his desk. Solas, took on a more friendly posture, encouraging the girl to explain herself. Ramia took in a deep breath and held her chin up, trying to make herself as authoritative as possible.

“I want to go to the party.”

“Party? The Winter Palace...? No no no.” Solas rose from his chair and started to clear the chaos on his desk.

“Yes yes yes” Ramia wouldn’t give up, and when Solas would not listen she sat on a book he had meant to pick up.

“Ramia….” Solas would be lying if he said he was sure how to proceed, if this was his child he would, but this was Moro’s child, any wrong move and lover or not…He didn’t want to dwell on what Moro would do if he screwed up anything involving her daughter.

“Please! Mother won’t let me!” Solas released his hand on the book when it was clear her butt would not be lifting from it anytime soon. He put his hands on his hips, trying to look as stern as possible, how does one intimidate a child without scaring the shit out of them?

“And what makes you think I can?”

Ramia looked off to the side, scrunching her mouth like she ate something foul, looked up at Solas. She raised her eyebrows once, the look of disgust never leaving her face.

"You're her 'Vhenaaan' aren't you?"

She wanted him to….? Oh. Shame on her.

“Vara” 

This child was sneaky, while she may have thought something more innocent in mind, the idea was there in HIS mind and he would not entertain it. Ramia however would not relent, standing abruptly in front of him, bobbing up and down.

“Sathan Hahren!”

“Oh! So it’s Hahren now? I thought I was ‘that bald guy who calls your mother vhenan’?” Ramia’s eyes widened at the knowledge that he had overheard that particular conversation. She continued to bob up and down.

“Please Hahren! Talk to mother! Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease!” Solas look up to avoid showing Ramia’s the smile on his face, lest it encourage her behaviour. He then placed a hand on her head to cease her hopping.

“I will make an attempt”  
“Yes!”  
“Don’t get your hopes up” Solas went back to his desk and continued his book.  
“What are you doing?  
“Reading.”  
“Are you gonna talk to her?”  
“When I’m ready”

Ramia let out a loud groan in frustration, stomping out of the room, leaving Solas grinning as he finished his book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Vara"- Go away  
> "Sathan"- Please
> 
> Translations from Project Elvhen by FenxShiral


	21. A little convincing

“By the gods Solas….Where did all that come from?” 

Moro laid on her stomach, Solas laying a small amount of his weight on top of her, trailing kisses across her shoulder. A small sheen of sweat covering them both after an intense coupling. They stayed like that for some time under the covers, neither of them willing to leave the warmth the bed provided.

“It’s been some time has it not? You’ve been incredibly busy as of late, it’s almost impossible to get a moment of your time” Moro hummed in agreement, moving her hair so Solas could cover more ground and rested her head against her arm. “True enough, but that was rough, even by my standards” Solas stopped for a moment, slightly worried. 

“I did not harm you I hope” Moro chuckled in that low delightful way Solas adored, turning to face him. “Do I seem hurt love?” Solas smiled fondly at her, giving a kiss from the lobe of her ear, travelling down her neck, continuing where he left off. Moro gave a long stretch, patting Solas’ ass, playfully.

“Alright up you get, we got work to do” Solas’ only response was to put all his weight on Moro, trapping her in the bed with him. Moro let out a short laugh mingled with surprise.

“Solas.” 

Said apostate rested his chin against her collar bone with a lazy smile on his face. Moro rolled her eyes but made no attempt to move him.

“…Really?” Solas pretending not hear her, resting his head in the crook of her neck. He pretending to be asleep poorly, but such was his intent.

“Always in such a hurry”  
“I have letters to write”  
“They can wait”  
“I have to look over plans for Halamshiral.”  
“Cullen and Leliana would have sent for you if it were necessary”  
“I want to get out of bed”  
“No you don’t.”  
“No….I don’t.” Moro gave up, but insisted Solas at least let her sit up in bed, if he was going to use her as a pillow. She put the weight of her head on her knuckle and traced delicate patterns with her thumb over Solas’ brow. To anyone else they would think Solas asleep but she knew well enough by now he was wide awake. His breathing was slow and even, content and happy like a lazy cat across her shoulder. His voice became more hoarse and monotone as he asked Moro her plans for the peace talks.

“I hear you’ll be leaving Ramia behind.”  
“Of course, I don’t want her near that vipers nest”  
“She seems terribly disappointed”  
“It’s for the best.” 

“The whole evening isn’t going to consist of battle and stopping assassination plots” Moro lifted Solas head by the chin, suspicious of his prodding.  
“Why do you acre so much whether I bring her or not?” Solas cleared his throat, sitting up to sit shoulder to shoulder with Moro.  
“She just seems to sulk more and more the closer we get to the date.” Moro, raised a brow playfully jabbing Solas in his side.  
“One little pouty face and you’re already helping her get what she wants huh? Someone's eager to please.” Solas rolled his eyes at Moro’s accusation.

“I simply think it would be good for her to experience what could be a once in a lifetime opportunity. It’s not often elves get to be part of such events as guests and not as servants” Moro thought about his words. Ramia was terribly eager to go, there wasn’t much for children to do in Skyhold, and a chance to get away would be something her daughter would jump at the chance at. Some of her companions would be arriving later than others, perhaps she could journey with them? There was much to consider.

“I’ll…think about it”

Solas gave Moro a kiss to her cheek, brushing some of her hair from her shoulder.

“Calm down, I said I’d think about it. That’s not a yes.”  
“Whatever you say my heart.”


	22. Halamshiral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summing up the winter palace  
> We all know what goes down

The Winter Palace in Halamshiral was a sight to behold.

Moro had never seen so much opulence in her lifetime. It put Skyhold to shame. But where Skyhold was a fortress, this was…A palace, its golden splendour seem unending and the masked Orlesian nobles even more so to her dismay. 

Despite her being there to stop an assassination plot, Josephine insisted she attempt the game even just a small amount. Speaking to nobles and summing up the Duke, Empress and Ambassador Briala was a tedious affair, but it helped cement who she would assist in taking the throne this night. The humans would fair no better or worse so far as Moro was concerned, but if she could Briala power? She thought back to her own life back in Wycome, her mother, her brother and so many others. 

What happened in Orlais could influence the rest of the south. If she could make things better for her people she would take it. Gaspard was a brute and the more time Moro spent around him the more she was willing to rid him for Celene herself, her hand itching to grab at her concealed dagger every time he so much as breathed. 

The news of Celene and Briala’s relationship pretty much helped her decide. A friendlier pact between the two lovers would be much more beneficial in the long run than any threat that would be needed if Gaspard was on the throne.

Which is why Moro played Cupid, arrested a duchess, made a speech she doesn’t even remember the words to and is now sitting alone on a balcony, away from the bustle of the party with some wine, olives and solitude. Blessed, quiet solitude. Granted she was not wearing that heavy thick ridiculous dress, but she was alone.  
This gave Moro a chance to reflect on everything that had happened in the span of 2 years, bordering on 3.

The weight of her title was heavy, an elf carrying the mantle as herald of a human prophet was difficult to say the least. Sometimes she felt the suffocation of their religion being pushed on her. The loss of her clan solidified it to some extent. Even when (if) she defeats Corypheus, Moro and Ramia will have no family to return to, they were their own clan now and the future was uncertain. 

And then there was Solas.

Moro had never met anyone like him before. The knowledge he possessed and the magic in his arsenal was vast. She was never the over eager student, but she wanted to learn what he knew, she may not have been gifted with magic but she could not relinquish such an opportunity. So many evenings spent with him talking nonstop about the fade and the treasures he’d found. Moro was not one for asking questions, but listening intently, sometimes too quietly she learnt when Solas flushed once, having assumed she had lost interest until her eyes crinkled with mirth. Urging him to continue.

She had not thought to fall in love with Solas or have that love returned. Did not think she deserved it. Sometimes she feels she still doesn’t. Even now she caught her dim reflection in the window and traced a thumb over the Vallaslin on her chin. What would Arlen think to see her now? Herald of Andraste, leader of the Inquisition. 

And giving her heart to another, when he threw his for her on a platter.

Solas helped to heal the wounds and scars left behind, but she could not forget. She would not. Moro was interrupted from her thoughts at the approach of Solas himself. Dressed in colours of the Inquisition, a slight flush to his cheeks. He had clearly been joining in the festivities.

“Having fun I hope?” Solas joined Moro at her table, laying a forearm on the table. And wearing that ridiculous hat.  
“I’m not surprised to find you out here” Moro finished the last of her wine and began to refill it, drawing out a long sigh.  
“It’s been a long night, and despite how asinine it has been. It’s not over yet”  
“True enough. A moment’s peace is needed regardless.”

Both looked out on the courtyard where some of the other companions and Ramia were, a bright smile on her daughters face as she took in the marvel of the Winter Palace. Without looking away Moro smiled, albeit somewhat mournfully.

“I suppose you are right” She chuckled to herself then turned to Solas. “Two years ago and I would have rather bite on my tongue than admit you were right about anything” Solas returned her laugh with one of his own, taking a sip from her wine glass.

“Ah yes, you’ve changed much since then. The way you think and feel…” Solas eyes went downcast, tracing the patterns adorning the small side table. “Many things have changed but…” Moro placed her hand on his, concerned and confused. 

“Solas?” 

Laughs and cheers distracted them both, Solas taking this moment to stand and extend a hand to Moro. 

“Come dance with me Vhenan!” Moro raised an eyebrow, looking from his hand to his face and saw that he was very serious. She grinned, shaking her head and picked up her glass.

“Don’t be silly, off with you” 

Solas took the wine glass from Moro’s hand, placing it on the table, hauling her to feet and placing a hand on her waist.

“Will we ever get to do this again?”  
“I swear by all the gods Solas if you drop me-“ 

Solas took the lead giving one slow turn. “Do not worry yourself Moro.” Before he continued he gave her a pat on the backside and leaned in close to her ear.

“Such a heavy and thick dress could cushion any fall.”

“Solas!”


	23. Tutors

“Elvhen ruins?” 

“Yes Inquisitor, they haven’t found anything of distinct value yet, but my scouts are keeping a lookout, for now I would seek out Morrigan for any information she may have”  
Moro looked down at the war map, they were slowly getting the better of Corypheus and soon he would have nowhere to hide. She stood up straight from the war table, addressing her advisors. 

“I will look into what she has to say, for now rest up, Halamshiral was a pain in the ass. I think we could all use a day or two to recuperate” She dismissed them and stayed for a few minutes until a startled yelp was heard from Josephine’s office.

Moro took long quick strides to see what had happened. She was greeted by the sight of one of the rugs set ablaze, Josephine held a hand to her chest in shock while Leliana held a hand to hilt of Cullen’s blade. In the middle was Ramia, fright and guilt on her face as she stood in front of the small flame.

“I’m sorry…” 

Small little puffs of fire remained on her finger tips. All three advisors looked to Moro for an explanation. Assuming she had prior knowledge to the situation. She walked up to Ramia, pushing locks of hair from her face and calming her down.

“I didn’t mean to…I didn’t know.” Ramia seemed more upset at the accident than her sudden manifestation of magic. She looked up apologetically at Josephine. “I’m sorry Ambassador...”

“I know my brother was a mage but…I suppose it must run in the family proper.” Moro kissed her daughter’s knuckles and gave her earlobe a pinch. “I’ll have your rug replaced Montilyet, apologies for the fright” 

“Not at all Inquisitor! It simply took me by surprise that is all.”  
“We should see her tutored. She can’t be left to her own devices.”

Leliana placed a reassuring hand on the girl’s head. “Cullen is right Inquisitor, I’m sure Josephine could find a tutor for her. Someone discreet”

“Very discreet”

Moro rose to her feet, Leliana noticed the protective and cautious demeanour she held onto Ramia. “You humans are fickle when it comes to magic, this will be dealt with at a later time.”

“But Inquisitor-“

“At a later time! This is not up for debate.” She would not lose another. This would not be Phraan all over again. This time at least, she could control the fate of magic in the family. She dismissed Ramia and herself and they made their way to her quarters to prepare for bed.

It was a few hours late into the night. While Ramia now had her own room it wasn’t uncommon for her to wind her way back to her mother’s room and fall asleep like a starfish, trying to encompass as much of the bed as possible. Moro was deep in her book when Solas was making his way up the stairs. She kept her eyes to the pages, a finger to her lips, signalling him to keep his voice low, so as not to wake Ramia.

He had a spring to his step, arms folded behind him as he eavesdrop on what she was reading.

“Some interesting information has passed my way.”  
Moro rested her chin on one hand and turned a page. “Is that so?”  
“Mmhmm.”  
Solas sat on the spare stool provided near the desk, folded arms resting on the rich wood of the desk. Both closed mouthed but smiling at each other. “Heard anything specific?”  
“Oh, just that Ramia has come into her magic. I thought I would verify such information. Is it true?”  
“Perhaps…” 

They teased each other back and forth. Eventually Moro put down her book and leaned back further into her chair.

“She will need a teacher.”  
“Of course”

“But who could I get to tutor her? Decisions decisions” Solas hummed in agreement, foot tapping impatiently under the desk.

“Yes I imagine, you’d only want someone with extensive knowledge”  
“Someone wise?”  
“Perhaps not limited to circle study…”  
“That does put me at an impasse….Unless…” 

Solas pretended to keep himself busy and indifferent until Moro placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing Solas?”  
“Me? Well…I suppose it’s not entirely out of the question.”  
Moro grinned at this little game they played, straightening his attire and doting on him.  
“You have been so bored as of late.”  
“True…And if you can’t seem to find anyone well, it seems I will have to do. Rescheduling will need to happen but I think I could manage.”

“You’re ever so kind Vhenan.”


	24. Making Amends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moro catches up with an old friend

Ramia had not come alone to Skyhold. 

Lailani, Moro’s friend and Faron’s wife had also survived the journey to skyhold. A miracle honestly, recently widowed and heavy with child. She had been hardened by all the events that had happened. Faron was sent along with Moro to the conclave and did not survive the explosion, her other children did not survive the massacre of her clan and she almost lost the one she now carries. 

To say things were strained between her and Moro was an understatement. Moro couldn’t blame her. She had to face Lailani sooner or later, which is why they now sat at a table in Skyhold’s garden. Tea and other breakfast foods were placed on the table. Lailani rubbed at her swollen belly protectively, staring distastefully at the food before her. Moro swirled her tea spoon in her cup for what felt like an eternity. Moro eventually took a tip of her tea, cold and bitter she placed it back and set it aside and placed her hands on her lap.

Lailani panned her eyes across the garden and up towards the outside walls of the main hall.

“You’ve done well for yourself.”  
“Temporarily.”  
“I can imagine it consuming. Easy to forget about issues beyond the Inquisition” Moro looked up towards the sky and took in a deep breath. Lailani blamed Moro for it all. Faron’s death, the help that came too late. 

And it was. Moro was in charge at the conclave. Moro had everything at her disposal to save Clan Lavellan, this she would not argue with.

“I can never make up for what I’ve done Lethallin…”

Lailani scoffed at the endearment, she was about to pour herself tea when Moro interjected to pour it herself and sat back with a huff, rolling her eyes.

“I don’t need you doting on me Moro. Are you going to feed me as well?” Moro ignored her, adding milk and honey to her cup. Lailani took a sip, lips curling at the taste, more used to halla milk than what she had just ingested.  
“Do you see how I suffer Lailani” Lailani burst into a quiet giggle, Moro grinned at that taking a few grapes into her hand. 

“I’d ask what other atrocities the shemlen have you eat but I don’t know if I WANT to know”

“You don’t” They both sat in silence again, both minds on everything that’s happened. Lailani took hold of Moro’s hand.

“Give me time lethallan, I know you tried but…It’s all still very fresh for me.” Moro squeezed her hand in return, a thank you on her lips. Their friendship had waned in their time apart but she would mend it and make up for what she had done.

“I have informed a clan out in the dales of you and the baby, when everything has settled and the babe has been born, they will take you in. I will not leave you homeless, and they are more than happy to take you in.”

She would do everything in her power to correct her mistakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can see what Lailani looks like here if you're curious and her late husband Faron:
> 
> http://mindtrove.tumblr.com/post/138684607147/faron-and-lailani-lavellan-from-chapters-10-and-15


	25. By Your Side

Moro’s body left a lot to be desired. 

A younger Solas would have thought that, a long time ago. The people were different then and the women were the embodiment of beauty come to life. Varying forms of slender, unblemished and unmarred perfection.

A younger Solas would not appreciate the woman before him. Time had humbled him and the more he lived among these people the more his views what was beautiful changed with it.

Moro was unaware of Solas eyes on her as she stood naked in front of the mirror applying oils and salves to her skin. She was slightly thicker than most elves he had met, and muscled from all her fighting and training. Except for her stomach, which remained soft and stretched from birthing Ramia. A messy birth she had said and he cringed remembering her relay the story to him. No matter how many she fought or how much she trained, it was a stubborn area for her. 

Faint white scars covered most of her body which was unsurprising, given her preference in fighting style, jumping in and out of the fray with nothing but her daggers was a tricky and dangerous way to fight. The paled in comparison to one across her jaw she gained as a child.

Not that she cared. 

She had a shameless abandonment when it came to her cosmetic imperfections, and more so with her body itself. The first time he had seen her naked was long before they had ever become intimate.

They had been camping out in the Hinterlands, the stream and small waterfall calling to their aching bones and rumbling bellies. Moro had been gone longer than usual, Solas ventured out to find her while Varric and Blackwall stayed behind to continue preparing their evening meal. Moro has sensed him long before he came out and into the clearing. He expected she would at least cover herself from embarrassment, maybe a blush or…something. She stood at full height, a bored expression on her face but her eyes trained on his right in the eyes. 

Solas can’t remember why but instead of turning away returned the stare, it almost seemed like she was daring him to look anywhere else. 

“Are you going to continue staring like a little boy? Or hand me a towel?” A very subtle blush covered his ear as he turned his gaze and handed the mentioned towel in her direction. Her hearty chuckle at his reaction had annoyed him at the time but he smiled fondly at the memory now. 

He had his head propped on one arm as he continued to watch her groom. It surprised him at times to see how far they had come, how far Moro had come. If only it would last forever. Moro did not have an eternity…Her life was fleeting, as was what they have. Why did his mind always go to dark places? No he would not dwell on it, opting instead to admire the woman as she caught his eye in the mirror.

“Are you going to keep staring? Or hand me my oils?” 

“You need only but to ask Vhenan”


	26. Lesson One: Don't

“You are late.”

Ramia stood at the door of the rotunda, her hair a wet mess, a journal half her size and out of breath. Solas had not looked up from what he was writing when he addressed her, Ramia glared at him striding into the room.

“I had stuff to do!”   
“Yes, none of which you have done properly I see.” 

Ramia tutted as she dumped her book onto the table, taking the reserved seat in front of him. Solas looked up from his worked tapping her book with his quill. 

“Pick up that book and place it back on the table. Properly.” Ramia sat as awkwardly as possible, mostly the upper half of her body on the chair, which exaggerated how much fat she had on her chin. Her eyes narrowed at Solas’ demand, without removing eye contact she picked up the book and placed it back more gently, a sickeningly sweet smile on her face. More for mockery than genuine. Solas returned the smile putting away his work. 

“I’m going to assume will have to start from the basics? Sit up” Ramia rolled her eyes but did as she was told, she’d never understand what her mother saw in this man. Solas started going through some the basics of magic, the longer he went the less Ramia was taking in. Eventually his voice became a blur and her mind became preoccupied with other nonsense her mind could come up with. 

It didn’t take long for Solas to notice he had lost her attention. He clicked his fingers a few times to startle her out of her daydream, startling her.

“Huh!? Yeah Arlathan, magic and…” Solas looked at her unimpressed. Then went searching through his books until he came across and old dusty tome.   
“Can’t I just do some fireballs and call it a day?”   
“No.” Solas was looking for a specific chapter. “You cannot do anything practical without a bit of theory, you have only come into your magic a few days ago. Literally. We will not have you burning down Skyhold.”

“Urgh! Hahren we’re only doing this to make my mother happy. Well I am. You’re just trying to impress her.”   
“Impress her?”   
“Get cushy to the child to keep the mother happy, you don’t actually care. That’s fine, I don’t need you to I’m not gonna sabotage your relationship if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Solas put the tome to the side forgotten, concern etching his features. “Is that what you think Da’len?” He expected her to get sheepish but she only got more defensive and on edge. Almost forgetting whose child this was.

“Yes it is. You think you’re the first person to come after my mother after my father died?” Despite the eons of years between them, the intimidation Ramia tried to display in her eyes at Solas surprised him. The bluntness she displayed when speaking of her father saddened him as well.

“I don’t care about you and my mother being together.” Ramia stood up reaching out for her book, empty pages meant to be used for these lessons her mother insisted on. She left it instead storming away and out of the Rotunda. “Just leave me out of it.”

Solas did nothing to deter or stop her, feeling disapointment in the pit of his stomach as he sighed deeply and cleared his desk.


	27. Lesson Two: Do

Moro had been gone weeks in the hissing wastes and wasted no time heading straight for Solas despite wanting to shrug off her worn out leathers. He was painting when she found him, diligent as he always was but there was a lack of enthusiasm to his strokes. Silent, she wrapped one arm around his waist and rubbed his stomach with the other placing a kiss below the lobe of his ear.

“Miss me?” His immediate response startled her when he dropped his brushes and pulled her into himself. Burying his face into her neck, smells of earthy clay in her hair and the citrus from her headdress familiar and calming.

“Very much so.” Moro wrapped her arms around his back returning the embrace rubbing smooth circles, something had clearly upset it since she had been gone.

“You are troubled fenor. Talk to me.”   
“Do not be concerned, I am simply happy to see you. Tell me, how was the Hissing Wastes?” Moro gave a low hum taking a seat on the plush sofa on the other side of the room, crossing her legs and resting her head on her knuckles.

“Not as bad as Dorian will no doubt regale with you as soon as he steps foot back to his little cove. I liked it, it was quiet, calming. Despite the Venatori and wildlife trying to kill us.” Solas chuckled as he took a seat next her checking her for any wounds. “We’ll be gone again soon, we’d found some artefacts, rare, ancient even. I wanted them returned as soon as possible to Skyhold” Moro’s eyes drifted to Solas’ desk, where she saw Ramia’s journal. 

“Ah that reminds me! How are the lessons going? I hope she hasn’t been too much trouble. Is she learning quickly?” Moro was too busy approaching the desk to notice the sad droop to Solas’ gaze as he slowly followed her towards the desk.

“There…have not been any lessons. Not since the first…”  
“I told you she’d be a handful. What are these?” Solas stopped his impulse to hide the notes and papers.  
“They are…Were lessons plans. I was going to determine where her strength and weaknesses would be over the weeks. Had the lessons gone on to continue…” Moro looked over the sheets rubbing his lower back.

“You were really looking forward to this weren’t you?” Solas began taking the papers into a pile on the corner of his desk. “It does not matter anymore, your daughter has made up her mind of me.” Moro’s eyes narrowed but a smile remained on her face as she placed a hand on her hip and grabbed Solas’ arm to get his attention.

“That’s it then? She gets a little stubborn and you give up? What did she say?”  
“She sees me as a vulcher.” Moro cocked an eyebrow at him. “She’s sees me after your affections with care for little else…including her.”  
“And is that true?”  
“Of course it isn’t! I…” Solas took a deep breath, gathering his words. “I don’t want her to see me that way…I love you Ma’lath. I do not think that way about her but…”

“But…?”  
“She is so difficult!”

Moro burst into a fits of laughter, her smile did little to ease Solas of his annoyance at the situation.

“Of course she’s difficult! She’s thirteen.” Solas waves his arms frantically since words would not get through to Moro. She tutted at him affectionately and took hold of his hands. “She does not believe your motives to get to know her and teach her as genuine yes?” Solas grumbled his affirmation. “Your lack of persistence to teach her and avoiding her has only proved her point.”

“Moro…”

Moro placed three fingers to his lips to silence him. “Prove her wrong love.”   
“Perhaps…You are right.”  
“Of course I am. Go.” 

“Hurry up!” Moro gave Solas a slap on the rump to quicken his pace.


	28. Lesson three: Try

Ramia sat in the middle of her mother’s large four-poster bed alone. While Josephine had been kind enough to arrange quarters for her, she found she preferred her mothers. No one would bother her here, if her mother wasn’t here than no one bothered to come up here.

It had been quite some time since the incident with Solas. Ramia didn’t ‘dislike’ Solas per se, she just didn’t appreciate…whatever it is he’s trying to pull. Her mother was a balanced person, she gave her space but always made sure she showed her love for Ramia. Attention wasn’t the problem, Ramia was getting to that age where she wanted more space. Her mother was happy, happier than she had been for a very long time, even before she had become the Inquisitor. Clearly there was something about the bald apostate that put a smile on her mother’s face so she didn’t make a fuss. So long as they didn’t do anything within her peripheral vision…

No one needed that. 

What Ramia DIDN’T appreciate was Solas trying to get friendly with her. 

Ramia remembered the first time she had asked her mother about her father. Who was he? Why wasn’t he here anymore? Why didn’t she have a father when so many of the other children did? She would never forget the pain in her mother’s voice alone at retelling stories and information of her father. Even though her mother was willing to speak of him, Ramia swore she would never bring him up again. Not when it brought her mother so much pain.

Others in the clan, hunters especially took an interest in her mother from time to time. And what better way to garner her favour than the favour of her child?

She felt stupid when she thought about it now, eyes lighting up in excitement when a hunter would give her gifts or attention resembling that of the other children and their fathers. A façade.

Once her mother expressed her disinterest in pursuing anything with these men the attention stopped and so did Ramia’s hopes.

That’s all this was with Solas. Although he already had Moro, so why he was cosying up to her didn’t make much sense. Her mother already liked him, loved him she didn’t need him pretending to care about her or getting to know her. She picked up a book off the corner table when she heard the door open and close. The padding of bare feet told her it would either be her mother or…

Solas.

“Up.”  
“huh?”  
“Get up, you have much to catch up on. Your magic won’t improve with you sitting about all day”

Ramia’s face was a mixture of irritation, boredom and confusion. She closed the book in her hand a bit more forcefully that she needed to, crossing her arms in front of her.

“What’s in it for you?” Solas’ face was neutral as he sat beside her on the bed, Ramia’s immediate instinct to turn and face him fully. The behaviour like that of an animal constantly on the edge, keeping their predator in their line of sight. Moro was like this herself he had noticed with time, while she remained calm and aloof, there was always a rigidness to her mixed with keeping everything within her line of sight. Whether this was a habit of the clan at large or the two of them themselves was his guess. He tried to come off as friendly as possible as he addressed Ramia.

“I know we haven’t had the best of introductions.”  
“I think things are just fine.”

Stubborn child.

“It could be better.” Ramia hummed twirling the small book in front of her up in the air and back.  
“Better for who? You?”

“For both of us” Solas grabbed the book in mid-air demanding her full attention. Ramia opted for plaiting her unruly hair instead. Keeping hands busy while nervous was hereditary in seemed. “I understand that you feel slighted by my actions. You see them as deceptive. Misleading.”

“And why shouldn’t I?”

“Because I love your mother.” 

That got the girls attention, ceasing her fiddling and looking up at Solas.

“I love her…And care for her. I would not discard that which she holds close to her heart. Including you.” Solas placed the oversized journal Ramia had discarded behind in her last outburst in front of them. Ramia took the journal gently opening it to find small notes on magical theory and spirits, things she could have learnt by now if they had done their lessons. Weeks’ worth of notes and studies along the first few pages covered every inch of the pages as she ran her fingers along the elegant writing. 

“I am not asking for your immediate trust, I will earn it. Just as I did your mothers. If you will allow me the chance.”


	29. Lesson 4

“Honestly Inquisitor I don’t understand why you keep bringing me to deplorable parts of the country with you”

“You say Tevinter is much warmer, I thought it would be good for you to get a proper good taste of southern weather. Besides we’re back in Skyhold, no need to keep whining”   
“It seems bedding the Inquisitor has it perks, why not take Solas on your next venture instead of leaving him behind?”  
“You’re right Dorian, I have been playing favourites. I’ll take Solas on my next venture and you can stay behind. I think I have an engagement in Val Royeux, not my favourite place but I’m sure we can stomach the many wares and wonders it has.” 

“I hate you.” 

Moro laughed, giving Dorian’s shoulder a pat before taking his horse to the stables. She hoped Ramia wouldn’t be too upset when she saw her. Emprise Du Lion took close to a month for them to completely wipe of the red Templar menace. She found Varric in his usual spot by the entrance to the main hall by the fireplace, sifting through letters.

“Varric.” Moro placed a kiss to the top of his head. “How is my favourite dwarf?” Varric chuckled as he continued to sift through his letters.

“I’m pretty sure I’m the only dwarf you know Mo”  
“True, but that just makes you more special. How have things been as Skyhold? Ramia alright?” Varric cocked his head towards the Rotunda.

“See for yourself.” At that moment Ramia’s laughter could be heard from inside accompanied by a single clap and then what sounded akin to an explosion. Moro went in to investigate and was met by the sight of Moro and Solas at his desk. Faces and clothes covered in soot and small flames on parchments and loose papers. Both looked up at the sudden guest, Solas looking incredibly guilty while Ramia’s face held a huge toothy grin.

“This was an accident.” Moro crossed her arms as Solas’ defensive stance and then turned to her daughter.  
“I’m making veilfire!”  
Moro hummed in amusement. “I take it lessons have been going well then?”  
“Yes…Well, aside from this…minor setback. Yes very well.”  
“It’s been great! Solas knows a lot of stuff, don’t really understand half of it but he’s been great!” If his face wasn’t covered in black soot, Moro was sure he’d be blushing at Ramia’s words. “He’s also been showing me Spirit-“ Solas clamped a hand over Ramia’s mouth, shushing her.

“Oooh spirits!” Moro was enthusiastic to her study despite her tone. Solas gave a nervous chuckle removing his hand from Ramia’s mouth.  
“Yes…I may have gotten ahead of myself…If I have upset you…”  
“Don’t be silly Vhenan. I trust you.” Moro sauntered over, lifting Solas’ chin and rubbing away some soot from Solas’ cheek before placing a kiss there. “You should probably get yourselves cleaned up” Moro placed numerous kisses on Ramia’s head before leaving. Solas let out a sigh of relief once she had left, gently lying face down on the table.

“Did I say something bad?”  
“No, let’s just keep the spirits part of our lessons between us”  
“Oh yeah, humans got a stick up there about that sort of thing don’t they?”

Solas chuckled at her choice of words “Yes, quite.”  
“Should we try that again?” Ramia’s hands began to glow again with that tell-tale sign of disaster.  
“No we shouldn’t….Alright try again.”


	30. This is no life to live

The Temple of Mythal.

It warmed Moro’s heart to know that a piece of Elvhen history had been untouched for so long. Untouched and unspoiled by human hands. 

How quick eagerness and excitement can turn to apathy, to questioning your place in the grand scheme of things. Venatori desecrating the temple, a shemlen witch telling her of her own history.

As if she had spent the majority of her youth, tearing out her hair and desperately ingesting all that knowledge to appease and integrate into her clan and prove her worth tenfold. Nothing however hurt as much as the rejection from the Sentinel Abelas. To have a living Ancestor stand before you and be told you were not one of them cut her deep.  
Moro did not let that discourage her from partaking of the Well of Sorrows. She would take the knowledge it offered no matter the consequences, it was too precious to leave and too valuable to allow Morrigan to have either.

Solas did not take Moro’s decision well.

“I begged you not to drink from the well!”  
“It is done. Leave it be.”  
“You’ve bound yourself to ancient elvhen god!” Solas was tense, there had been many times where Solas and Moro bumped heads on matters and decisions but she had never seen him as angry as he was in this moment. Moro’s casual indifference on the matter seemed to only rile him more, her ignorance on the matter igniting his anger. Moro turned from Solas busying herself by idly panning her gaze across the murals.

“A small price to pay. In the grand scheme of things.”   
“You have no idea on the price you have paid…”  
“What was I to do Solas? Give it to Morrigan? We could learn so much of the past with this, not all of us can be somniari.”  
“You are Mythals creature now Moro. Do you even care? What of Ramia? Did you not think how this could affect her?!” Moro rounded on Solas, fury in her eyes and a finger pointing at him accusingly. 

“Don’t you dare Solas! She is exactly the reason why I drank form the well!” It was convenient the hour was late, the only occupants above being the crows above. Moro’s voice boomed throughout the entire Rotunda, an old, bitter wound being ripped open at Solas’ words. “You know nothing! You were certainly right when you said you feel no kinship to us!” Moro paced back and forth, face contorted in disgust “Cowering in the cities like rats! Slaves without a leash. Dalish wandering the forests aimless and lost…” Moro hand gripped at his desk, the wood groaning at the grip. Solas’ gaze remained cold, letting Moro’s words fill him.

What she think if she knew he was inadvertently responsible for the state of her world.

“I have lived this life as a flat-ear and as Dalish. Spit on them both. I would bind myself to every god if it meant making the world better for Ramia. For all of us.” The freeness and lack of hesitancy that layered her words unsettled somethign deep within Solas. This was a fight with no winners. The argument taken to a place both of them questioned whether they wanted to get to in the first place.

Solas opt for approaching and placing a hand on her shoulder, to do something, anything to resolve this tension. Moro shrugged him off before leaving the rotunda, angry, tired and hurt.


	31. Not like this (Part 1)

“May I come in?”

“You’re already in.”

Solas had decided to give it at least until the next day in the afternoon before approaching Moro again after their last ‘discussion’. She was dressed in a loose fitting dress, hair pinned up and out of her face as she sowed and mended clothes on the bed.

“Sowing I see.”  
“Mhmm”

Solas looked about himself sheepishly, hands fidgeting in front of him. Moro had not taken her eyes off her work and it seemed she had no intention to. She made no indication of kicking him out, he could work with that.

“Ramia is off somewhere I take it?”  
“Mhmm”

Solas sighed in frustration, moving over to the bed to sit beside her. Moro took that moment to place some of her fabrics in his destination, making the man shoot back up before his arse could land there. Solas placed his hands on his hips, he would not tolerate such childish behaviour.

“Moro I wish to talk.” Moro raised a brow and look up in Solas’ direction, then returning back to her task. She gestured her hand to the unoccupied space beside her, she placed a finger to his lips before he could speak.

“Now Solas I have some things to say and you are going to listen and you are not going to interrupt me is that understood?” Solas gave a muffled yes in reply. “I’m sorry.” Solas blinked in surprise at the unexpected admittance of guilt but kept quiet regardless. 

“I’m sorry that my choices at the temple upset you, my response to your anger could have been handled better. I should have consulted you. I apologise for that. Regardless of the fact that I do not regret drinking from the well.” 

“Thank you Vhenan…”   
“One last thing however”

Moro grabbed Solas’ chin between her fingers, bringing him eye to eye with her.

“Do not question my intentions when it comes to my parenting. Ever.” 

Solas gave a nod and gentle smile, taking hold of the hand on his chin and bringing a kiss to its knuckles. “Now was there anything you wanted to say?”

“Only that I am sorry as well.” Solas took both of her hands into his own, bringing them both to their feet. “Get dressed, I wish to take you somewhere.” Moro laughed softly, going to her armoire to find outerwear.

“So ominous! What have you got planned in that dome of yours?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Moro how you've grown.   
> Freely owning up to your mistakes and apologising without a moments hesitation.


	32. Not like this (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ¬_____________¬

Crestwood. 

Moro found it odd that Solas would want to bring her here, although she would admit their surroundings were quite beautiful, the hart statues, the waterfall, all of it decorated by the illuminance of the many fireflies. Not her style, but she could appreciate it. 

Solas brought her in front of him, her hands held in his. “In all of Thedas I never thought I would meet someone who could draw my attention form the fade. You have become important to me, more than I could have imagined” The faintest blush covered Moro’s cheeks, turning her head downwards away from his gaze. Solas pulled her face up back to his, thumb tracing over one pink cheek. “More important than I could have imagined”

“As you are to me.”  
“Then I must tell you…The truth…”

 

Slave Markings. 

The vallaslin, her mark of adulthood. That which should have proud pride were slave markings. Her heart dropped into her stomach at his words, her eyes widening and mouth agape at the new knowledge.

“You lie.”

It was barely above a whisper, she place shaking fingers on the lines on her face. An itch crossing the expanse of her face and down her neck. “Lies, lies…No..They can’t be.” Solas placed a grip on her biceps, giving her time to ingest this new knowledge. “Why….Why tell me this?!” He tightened his grip, face becoming sterner.

“Because you deserve better.”

Moro was overcome with a sudden embarrassment and shame, she wanted to get away, to hide from him. Solas caught this and would not let her go, she had nothing to be ashamed of.

“I did not tell you think to hurt you, I know a spell Moro. I can remove the vallaslin.” Moro whipped her head towards him, could she do that? The markings were permanent weren’t they? What about her beliefs? What about….

Arlen?

Moro put her hands on Solas’ chest, taking steps away from him.

“I need to think…Please…Give me a moment.”  
“Of course.”

Moro kneeled by the bank. These marking had been a part of her for so long. They were supposed to honour the elvhen gods. That wasn’t the issue, she knew that deep down, because she knew. Moro knew deep down that she never carried the vallaslin to honour a god.

She wore them to honour Arlen. To honour a dead man, her permanent penance for that arrogance and pride that ended an innocent man’s life. That part of her mind screamed at her but there was another voice, softer and gentler. A voice asking her that wasn’t it enough now? That she has carried this weight for over 12 years, that what had happened was so long ago and cannot be changed. It wasn’t fair to herself, but more importantly unfair to Solas. She loved Solas, a boon on her life. To remove the markings, remove the pain and move forward. Commit fully to Solas and love him with everything she had.

“Moro?”

Moro snapped out of her thoughts, Solas kneeling beside her with his hand placed at her back. Moro twisted herself round to face him.

“Cast your spell. Take the vallaslin away.”

She had thought it would hurt. The spell felt cold on her skin, a small quiet sigh escaping her lips and the last of the writing was removed. Moro didn’t feel different, but when she opened her eyes and saw the look of awe in Solas’ eyes she couldn’t hold back the warmth in her heart, smiling back at him.

“Ar lasa mala revas. You are free.” 

Solas held her close, capturing her lips with his own. Moro could have stayed like that forever, arms curling in around him and taking him in with everything she had. She was free and it felt so good. When Solas pulled away she had suddenly been overcome with a feeling of dread, his grip loosened and his face fell.

“And I am sorry, I have distracted you form your duty. It will not happen again.” 

“….Solas…?”

Moro cocked her head to the side, confused and scared. When she tried to reach out for him he only pulled back more. He was ending it. He was walking away. She glowered, searching his eyes for an answer.

“Tell me you don’t care.”

“I can’t do that”

Moro’s lip quivered, head shaking side to side, eyes blurring with tears threatening to fall. 

“Tell me you don’t care….Please…”

“I can’t…I’m sorry…”

As he walked away Moro closed in on herself, hands clutching at her gut as she cried. Quiet sobs and whimpers echoed around her, her only company as her heart was breaking.


	33. I'm Angry

Moro was in her room alone, skimming through books and doing pretty much anything to keep her hands busy and her mind occupied. 

It was over and she did not know why. To say she was hurt was an understatement. She felt used, cast aside and confused. The lack of closure kept her in a dour mood and a constant deep ache in her heart. She stood by the balcony window looking out at the mountains when she heard footsteps coming up to her room. He was the last person she wanted to see right now, but he was still their fade expert and some professional normalcy had to be kept. Important reports and discoveries where brought straight to the inquisitor. Break-ups would not change that.

“Inquisitor.”  
“Solas.” 

Moro never turned her gaze towards him, she still felt bitter. Everything was so abrupt and unexplained and it left something dark and cruel inside her.

“Slave markings…”

Solas was placing his report on her desk, unsure where she was going with her thoughts.

“Was it good? Exciting even?” 

Solas still has his back to her. 

“Did you like to pretend? A pretty little concubine? A good slave to fuck and warm your bed.”  
“Moro.” Solas’ voice took a deep warning tone to it, hands clenched tight at his sides.  
“What else could it be? I mean granted three years is a long time, but we all get bored eventually don’t we? Wasn’t that all this was to you?” Moro snorted loudly, crossing her arms in front of her “I should have known better than to think it could anything more than that.” 

“Enough Moro. Such words are beneath you.”

The snarky veneer Moro tried to hold was crumbling, avoiding his gaze she tried to find anything and anywhere to look. Anywhere but at him.

“Perhaps the gods have finally seen fit to punish me for what I did to him. What better punishment than this?” Moro then turned her eyes directly into his, burning with a quiet rage, betrayal.

“You do not understand…”

“THEN TELL ME!” Solas met her glare but his mouth remained shut, hands still clenched as Moro made small steps towards him whether she realised or not.

“Tell me Solas! Tell me why you cast me aside with no explanation! Why you would use me like this?!” Moro ran I hand through her hair as her eyes became blurry. ”You can’t just end this with no explanation and expect me to be alright with it!” Solas stood and took her anger, it had been weeks since that night in Crestwood, weeks since they had actually seen each other face to face let alone spoke. All her anger and hurt bursting after holding it in for too long.

“I trusted you! I let you in and told you everything!” Her voice grew louder, her shoulders shaking. “I told you about my family!” Solas wanted to look away so badly, but every fibre of his being told him to face her, if this is what she needs. “I confessed what happened to Arlen with you! I let you into my daughter’s life!” She back away when she was too close, like it was too painful to be near him.

“I BECAME BARE-FACED FOR YOU!”

The tears finally ran free, her voice cracked and hoarse as she cried with a hand at her eyes while the other clung to her clothes. She had to stop. She had been careless, naïve in believing this was her chance to be happy. Moro composed herself, eyes puffy and red and breathing heavy. 

“Moro…Please…”  
“Dian! Banal’abelas, banal’vhenan!” 

Moro and Solas both were shocked by her words, even she could see the pain they caused him in hearing them. She turned her back to him and came face to face with her own reflection. She had not seen her face after the removal of her blood writing. She stared wide eyed like a frightened child, fingers trembling to cheeks where lines and patterns should have been.

“…Oh….” Stray tears fell down her face, Moro was so lost in the stranger in the mirror “No, no no….” She did not notice Solas come up beside her until his hand was placed on her shoulder. She jumped at his touch, turning to look up at him. He was just as broken by this as she was, just as hurt, she could see it now. She buried her face into his chest, hands clinging to him as she cried anew. This time he did not push her away, wrapping his arms around her.

“I’m sorry!” Solas hushed her apologies, hands against her face as his thumbs wiped away tears at the corner of her eyes. Moro buried her face into his chest again but Solas pulled her face back, smiling but with so much sadness in his eyes. “I didn’t mean it. Any of it. I know you wouldn’t do that.” Moro swallowed in a large gulp of air as Solas rubbed his thumbs across her cheekbones. 

“I know…I never saw you in such a way. Never.” Moro scoffed at the situation, placing herself on the large coach by the fireplace.

“I really thought things would be different” Solas came and sat beside her, an arm’s length of distance between them. “I knew this wouldn’t end well, I kept telling myself that. We both kept telling ourselves that. When did we decide ignoring our common sense was a good idea Solas?” Solas gave a long tired sigh sitting down beside her. 

“Your guess would be as good as mine…”

Moro turned to look at him and she smiled with resignation. “I suppose some little childish stupid part of me kept saying…maybe this time it will be different Moro, maybe he’ll prove you wrong.”

“Moro…”

“Tell me why. Do you care so little that the truth should be denied to me?”  
“It would only lead to more questions.” She closed her eyes, exhaling softly.   
“An emotional entanglement that would benefit neither of us…” Solas was on his feet, and descending the steps of her room.

“The fault is mine, let that be enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvhen by FenXShiral:
> 
> Dian! Banal’abelas, banal’vhenan: (roughly since there's way too many to choose from) Enough! Your apology is nothing. You don’t have a heart!


	34. It's Over

“So….You and Solas don’t seem as…close.”

“No we’re not we…” Moro shrugged her shoulders, looking up at Blackwall with a deftest look. “I don’t really know what it is anymore.” Blackwall scratched at his beard, grumbling and folding his arms in his lap. 

“He still looks at you, like before…but with more of kicked puppy look to it.” Moro couldn’t help the chuckle at his choice of words. “I think he still loves you.”

“Then why would he end it?” Blackwall wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “What is it he thinks I wouldn’t understand?”

“I can’t even begin to try and understand what goes on in that man’s head. You don’t have to deal with this alone though alright?” her smile wavers for a split moment before returning, nodding and breathing out a long tired sigh and rises to her feet.

“I know…Thank you Thom.”

Blackwall’s words stuck to her mind as she took some reports to the rotunda. Maybe Solas still loved her, but why all this pain? A couple of weeks had passed since the incident in her quarters, she may not have gotten the result she wanted but it felt good to release all that pent up anger, to know she wasn’t the only one hurting. 

“Inquisitor?” The libraries above were quiet again today, Solas was tucked away at his desk as he usually was. There was too much at stake for petty squabbling, and both Moro and Solas had come to a mutual decision to keep what had happened behind the scenes.

“Some agents left behind in the Arbor Wilds have returned with some interesting observations. I wanted to get your opinion on the matter.”   
“Of course, please.” Solas gestured a hand out to take the papers, face scrutinising the pages. “This is quite extensive, this may take some time.”

“I’ll have to insist you try get through them by the end of today, after Ramia’s lesson of course.” Solas took his eyes away from the pages, surprised at Moro’s words.  
“Oh…I didn’t think…” A mirthless smile, stretched across Moro’s face, a hand reaching out for his on the table. Solas knew he should retract his hand, but the feeling of her thumb rubbing across the back of his hand was too soothing. “I would have thought…”

“I know once Corypheus is defeated you will not stay.” Moro look down at his hand loose in her grip. “You would have no reason to stay.”

“Moro what are you telling me?”

“I’m telling you to spend your remaining time here wisely…And when you leave, do not do so without saying goodbye.” Realisation dawned on him, nodding more to himself than to her. “She doesn’t deserve to be greeted to an empty room.” 

Moro rose from her seat walking around a placing a hand under Solas’ chin, lifting his gaze. There were so many things they tried to convey with their eyes in that moment, apologies and gratitude, love and anger. This was their acknowledgement of the current state of their affair, Corypheus was coming and this was their last chance to say goodbye. 

If Moro had not accepted his leaving, he probably would not have allowed and reciprocated the kiss. A small and gentle meeting of their lips, nothing more and nothing less but probably more passionate then the hundreds had before it. 

They had to fight every fibre of their beings to pull away, knowing deep down the moment they pulled away meant it was over. For good.


	35. Goodbye

Corypheus was destroyed, along with the orb. 

Solas had supposed it was too much to hope for. Time was of the essence, he had to leave, change course and start again. There was however one thing he still had to do before leaving.

“Hahren?” 

Solas was taking what he could still fully dressed for travel and knapsack filled and waiting on his desk. Ramia stood by the door leading to the upper levels of the library, at the sight of him she beamed with joy and ran into his arms.

“You’re ok!” Ramia looked from his face to his clothing and packed belongings, smile faltering. “Where are you going? Where’s mother and the others?” Solas struggled to find his words, pulling in a long deep breath he sat himself down and took hold of Ramia’s hands in his own.

“Solas….?”  
“I’m leaving.”

“…What?” The sight of the slow realisation of what he had said bringing so much sadness to her face hurt him deep. Moro made him promise though, and he would honour that promise. 

“I am sorry da’len.”

“No….” Ramia wrapped her arms around Solas’ neck. “You can’t go.” It was foolish looking back now. Solas should have suspected attachment when he started teaching the girl. “Did I do something wrong?” Solas wrapped his own arms around her in retaliation to her words. 

“No, no please…Don’t think that. None of this is your fault.” 

“Then why are you leaving?” When they pulled away Solas rubbed at his face with his hands, sighing out, finding this so much more difficult than he had hoped it would be. “I study harder hahren! I’ll start coming to lessons on time and listening more I promise!” Solas grinned at her proposals, shaking his head and leaning his elbow on the table to rest his head against. 

“This isn’t fair…”

No it wasn’t he thought. “Ramia.” Ramia’s head was bent down, small sniffling and whimpers leaving her. “Ramia look at me.” Solas held her by her arms, giving her biceps the tiniest of squeezes as he held back his own tears. “You are a wonderful and bright child and I would not trade the time I have had with you for anything. I have things I must do and you and mother cannot come with me.” Solas looked at the wolf-jaw necklace on the desk, taking it in hand and placing it over Ramia’s head. 

“Will you promise to take good care of your mother for me Da’lath’in?” Ramia clutched the necklace to her, nodding through her tears and nudging her forehead against his chest when Solas stood from his seat. She began muffling against him.

“I can make veilfire now.” Solas went on one knee, wiping the tears from her cheeks.  
“Show me.” 

It was only a small thing, barely there at all, but he saw the intense concentration on her face and the amount of effort it must be taking for her to make it. The flame disappeared into miniscule wisps. He took her small hands in his, proud. 

“Don’t stop practicing.”

“I won’t….Goodbye Solas.” 

Moro would later find Ramia nestled in Solas’ study, the jawbone around her neck her sing that he had kept his word. He had left a mark on her life that no one would be capable of replacing and all she could hope was wherever he was, the gods would bring him back to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that was fun.
> 
> If you read this far thank you, I hope you like it and will consider reading my next story Promise which takes place 5 years after the events of tresspasser x


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